Max and the Prince by R. J. Scott

but
Lucien couldn’t see anyone specific in among the general crowd of swim fans and
dedicated family. He supposed that was a good thing. A bodyguard didn’t necessarily
have to stand out.
    “You’re probably better off not doing that,” Max said in his
ear.
    Lucien frowned. “What?” He leaned closer and placed his hand
on Max’s thigh, as the noise in the place increased in line with the race drawing
to a close.
    “That.” Max indicated Lucien’s hand and the evidence of
arousal in Max’s swim trunks. He’d hidden it with a towel, but Lucien could see
from this angle. He put two and two together and removed his hand like it was
on hot bricks. Max quirked a smile, a soft, sexy, quiet smile, then shifted in
his seat to face the competition.
    Had Lucien done that? Had his touch on Max’s thigh turned
Max on? Or was it a warning that something had happened to turn Max on and Max
didn’t want Lucien’s hand near him or to see it? Heat rushed through him. The
instant that desire slammed into him, he knew he was screwed. With a muttered
curse, he covered his own lap with a towel. He had maybe ten minutes until his
first race and this was not going well.
    Max was called up first for the medley relay, and Lucien
refused to look at his retreating back; only Max was cute and firm and hard and
soft and all the confusing shit that could only mean one thing.
    Desire.
    “Did you see?” Mickey said as he slumped into the chair next
to Lucien.
    Lucien searched for the right answer. “You rocked,” he
offered.
    “I came third,” Mickey said. Now Lucien could hear the
thread of misery in the other man’s voice.
    “But it was a strong third.” Hell he hadn’t even been
watching, he’d been thinking of anything he could to get rid of his damn
erection. “Sorry, I need to…” He stood abruptly and moved closer to the start
in readiness for his next race. He was early and he’d been distracted, and he
could almost feel Mickey’s bemused gaze burning into his back.
    And now he was here way too close to the start of Max’s race,
and he got up close and personal to the man. The first swimmer dived in at the
whistle and CU pulled ahead as Kev set a good pace. The changeover was slick,
the second in the team clean into the water, and time slowed so Lucien could just
watch Max. The tension in his muscles, the readiness in his taut, tight figure,
the soft bounce of his knees, the way a tuft of his blond hair poked out from
under his swim cap. He was probably so pissed that he was even swimming today,
his big bad bodyguard desire to protect undermined by Billy’s pesky torn tendon.
    In his head Lucien counted the strokes as the second in this
four-man team came closer. When the second man touched the side of the pool,
Max entered the water with barely a splash, diving and traveling the longest
way under water before coming to the surface and settling into a strong breaststroke.
Max wasn’t the fastest, but he was strong and determined, and as a team, they brought
home the win.
    Lucien only hoped he’d do the same in his own race. And he
thanked the heavens he was close by when Max removed his cap then lifted
himself out of the pool. The sight of that blond hair and the water and the
slim strong body was enough to drive Lucien mad, but there was no way he wanted
to miss it.
    Max grinned at him, pushing hands through his hair, then
standing by Lucien’s side. “That was a rush.”
    Lucien had no idea what to say to that. Max turned away as
Kev came over to congratulate him and Lucien was faced with Max’s taut back and
tight ass. He spotted the faint scar that ran alongside Max’s spine and
resolved to ask the bodyguard what that was, although he assumed Max had got it
when his plane went down. To think, Max might not have been standing here. The
idea of never meeting Max filled Lucien with sadness and he realized he was
focusing on grief when he should be enjoying a smiling Max who was very
definitely here .
    Then