Sam stripped off his shirt and slid out of his pants. Donovan took his wet things for him and hung them next to his own. They stood staring at one another. Sam could feel his heart thudding in his chest. He could feel his cock straining in his bikini underwear, the tip pressing up against his belly. He turned away, embarrassed at his own arousal, anger welling up as he wondered what game Donovan was playing.
Each time he reminded himself Donovan was straight as an arrow with zero interest in Sam except as a partner in survival, Donovan would do something—a gesture, a glance, a touch—that said something different. Sometimes Sam could almost feel the electricity snaking between them, only to have it snuffed out if he tried to follow its path.
Donovan moved closer, reaching out to touch Sam’s shoulder. “No, don’t turn away. Please.” Sam stood frozen, his heart catching in his throat as Donovan smiled, his expression a mixture of desire and hesitation. Sam felt as if he were falling into one of his daydreams as Donovan bent to kiss him, his full lips warm as they made contact with Sam’s. Trembling, he kissed him back with no idea of what would happen next.
 

Donovan couldn’t believe what he was doing.

He had wanted to do it for days—even longer if he were honest with himself. Sam was so cool, so self-contained. What if he admitted his fledgling, confused desires and Sam rebuffed him? He’d tried to show Sam indirectly, touching his hand a moment longer than necessary, “accidentally” brushing against him in the night, but Sam never responded.
Though he knew he was good-looking, Donovan had never felt truly comfortable with himself. The youngest and smallest of a family of robust, strapping athletic boys, he had never been quite good enough or strong enough. Even when he graduated with honors and a law degree, it was made subtly known he had been expected, like his brothers before him, to go into his father’s landscaping business. They were unimpressed with his “egghead” achievements.
With women he’d been mostly passive, letting them make the first move and the last one as well, as they broke up with him after a few months or years. When he took the time to ponder it, Donovan wondered if he was missing some essential gene, something that enabled one to care deeply for another person. Though he liked to think he was different from his cold, emotionally withdrawn father and his superficial shallow brothers, secretly he harbored a fear he was more like them than he dared to admit.
These past two weeks on this deserted island with the handsome stranger who had saved his life had literally turned his world upside down. Things he’d taken for granted had been ripped away from him. Together they’d been forced to forge a life, to find food and make shelter, each moment a small miracle as they made it through another day. Though Donovan still hoped they would be rescued, a part of him had thrived as he found himself able to rise to each task before them.
Had he been observing himself from outside the situation, the Donovan of two weeks before would have said he was now acting off his fear and loneliness. With an attorney’s logical mind, he would have told himself any person would be drawn to the only person left in his world. He would have assured himself his attraction to Sam didn’t mean he was gay or even curious. It didn’t mean anything at all.
These past days with endless hours to contemplate his life, his fate, his future, his desires, his dreams—had stripped away much of the old logical veneer he used to pride himself on applying to all situations. He and Sam didn’t know if they’d ever make it off this tiny bit of land—at once a paradise and a prison. He did know he respected and admired the quiet self-assured Sam, but beyond that, he desired him. He wanted to find out what was behind those large dark eyes, what really went on in Sam’s head and heart. He longed to know if he had a place there.
He could feel Sam tremble as he moved closer, their bare chests touching. Donovan closed his eyes, barely able to believe he was kissing a man! He could feel his cock bending and rising in his underwear, his balls tightening with lust. Sam pulled away as Donovan instinctively moved forward, his mouth still eager for Sam’s kiss. He opened his eyes, a sigh of dismay escaping his lips.
Sam’s eyes were bright, his expression full of pain. “Don’t do this, Donovan,” he said tightly. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it.”
“What? You don’t want to…” Donovan trailed off, flames of embarrassment licking his face as he turned away. His miscalculation hit him in the gut like a fist. Sam had no interest in him—Sam didn’t want him.
“Jesus, you know that’s not it!” Sam’s voice was sharp, pain echoing in his words. Donovan turned back toward him, confused. “Of course I want to! I’ve wanted nothing but since I first saw you on the ship! Don’t you see—if you start this, I can’t go back. If you break down the fragile defense I’ve managed to maintain, I don’t think I can build it up again. Once you’re done ‘experimenting’ or whatever the hell it is you’re doing, and you’re ready to go back to being mister straight man, I’m not going to be able to just turn it off. I’m not wired like that. For me it’s all or nothing. Do you understand? I can’t do this. There’s too much at stake between us. We have to live together, just us. There’s nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide.”
Donovan was confused but at the same time felt hope rising like a lark inside of him. His voice pleading, he said, “But I don’t want to hide! I’ve wanted to kiss you forever. I have to find out if what I feel is real. I know you feel it too.” Donovan glanced at Sam’s underwear to make his point—the erection still visible despite his protestations.
“Of course I feel it! Damn it, that’s the point! For you this is a game, for me it’s real, all too real. If you kiss me again, I’m not going to be able to stop. I’m going to take you all the way, Donovan. I only play for keeps.”
Donovan stared at the man standing nearly naked before him. They were the only people in the world at that moment. His decision would shape the course of their lives—at least until they were rescued. If they were rescued. He touched his lips, the heat of Sam’s mouth still imprinted there. He wanted another kiss. He wanted more than that. For the first time in his life, Donovan ached for the experience held just out of his reach.
Moving toward Sam, he whispered, “Kiss me.”