Nine.

That was how many times Jacob had started and discarded whatever he was writing at the desk, only to try again after a lap around their room and some piecemeal packing. It’d been two hours since they’d left Alex and Dane’s room, and while Bas had finished one sketch and started another, the pup had little to show for all his nervous energy. Not that Bas hadn’t been as bad last week after the gonzo press conference, waiting for Alex’s call.

Propped against the headboard, Bas tracked a tenth ball of crumpled paper as it whizzed past, missing the trash can by a mile. The pup’s aim was as bad as his hair, even if they both made Bas smile. It’d been a week since Media Day, the night before which Bas had fixed Jacob’s half-shaven head, buzzing the entire thing. Now, fuzzy blond hair was growing back, unevenly, making Jacob look like a Chia Pet in progress.

Bas tossed his graphics tablet aside and swung his legs off the bed. “All right, Pup, let’s go.”

Jacob froze mid-lap. “Go where?”

Bas grabbed the electric clippers off the table between their beds. “Bathroom,” he said. “We need to fix your hair before we leave.”

“But we’re flying out of Houston. No press there.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Bas nudged him toward the bathroom. “And regardless, I’m not letting you go out in public like that.”

Jacob glared over his shoulder, almost running into a wall. “You let me go out in public last night, to the food trucks with Dane and Alex.”

“After I told you to put on that raggedy-ass UT baseball cap.”

“Some mate you are.” Plopping down on the toilet, Jacob shrugged out of his T-shirt part way, one long arm getting caught in the collar. “Arrrgh!”

Laughing, Bas helped him the rest of the way out of the shirt, coaching himself not to linger on his teammate’s tan skin and lean muscles. This was like any other day on deck or in the locker room; it wasn’t like that night a week ago in the cozy tattoo parlor. He shouldn’t have indulged himself then, but Jacob wrecked with lust—pupils blown wide, skin flushed, erect cock in hand, and the dimples at the base of his spine calling Bas’s name—had been beyond beautiful, like a work of art Bas couldn’t turn away from. And when Jacob had begged him to stay, it’d tugged like a magnet at Bas’s insides. The same way the pup’s pirate quips, goofy hair, and refusal to admit what had him tied in nervous knots drew Bas to him tonight.

After plugging in the clippers, Bas flipped them on, and their low, steady buzz filled the room. He skated the clippers over Jacob’s scalp, hand trailing to brush away loose hairs and lift any stragglers. Jacob shivered on the first pass, tension tightening his spine and shoulders, but as Bas continued the repetitive motions, Jacob’s spine and shoulders curled forward, his entire body swaying with each pass of the blades.

When he was good and relaxed, all the nervous energy wrung out of him, Bas began to dig, carefully. “You wanna tell me what’s got you worked up?”

“Worked up?” Jacob mumbled, half in a daze.

“You lapped the room nine times and made a mess of your luggage in the process. All two bags of it.”

Jacob’s swaying stopped, as did his responses.

Bas tried another avenue. “What were you writing?”

“Notes,” he answered, defiant green eyes flickering up at Bas.

Bas pressed anyway. “You were fine when we were in Alex and Dane’s room.”

“Too busy stuffing my face with BBQ.” After a moment, he added quietly, as if to speak the words would risk them coming true, “What if the Committee doesn’t reinstate him?”

Earlier that day, Alex and Dane had returned to San Antonio with evidence that Alex had been framed by another teammate for doping. A lawyer’s kid, Bas thought the exculpatory evidence looked pretty damn convincing—Coach Hartl had agreed—but ultimately the US Olympic Committee would make the call. Hopefully they’d make it before the team was scheduled to fly out of tomorrow. Bas wanted his best friend and captain on that flight with them, but he had to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. And Jacob should be too.

“If he’s not reinstated,” Bas said, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth, “then someone else will swim in his place.” The aftertaste was worse.

“But Ryan was Alex’s backup,” Jacob countered.

Ryan, their individual medley champ and Alex’s backstroke and medley relay backup, had been the one who’d framed Alex, angling for his spot in both events.

“Coach will sub in other swimmers, like he did in practice today.”

“And the medley relay?” Jacob’s voice pitched higher, his shoulders tight again. “We sucked without him in practice today.”

“We’ve got a week until Madrid,” Bas said, reassuring himself as much as Jacob. “We’ll make it work.”

“What if we can’t? What if the subs aren’t the problem?”

Confused, Bas turned off the clippers and set them aside. “What other problem is there?”

“Me.”

For as soft as Jacob’s voice actually was, it rang as loud as the starting horn at a meet to Bas, slamming into him and kicking his instincts into action. At a meet, he’d launch off the block into the pool. Here, in this tiny hotel bathroom, he dropped to his knees in front of Jacob. “Is that what’s got you nervous?”

Chin tucked, Jacob angled his face away, gnawing at his lower lip. “I haven’t been doing this as long as you guys.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not the best.” Cautiously, as he’d seen Jacob do before, Bas laid his hands on Jacob’s knees and waited for Jacob to give him his eyes again. “You have a new national record to show for it.”

Jacob lifted a hand, a single finger raised. “From one race.” He lowered the digit and flitted the raised hand between them. “The races before that . . .”

“What about them?”

He dropped his hand onto his thigh, just out of Bas’s reach. “I couldn’t pull out the win. I choked.”

Bas slid his hand forward, covering Jacob’s. “Or you didn’t know how to win yet. You’ve won now. You just have to keep winning.”

“I don’t know how.”

His small, anxious voice tugged again at Bas’s insides. So did the question Jacob wouldn’t ask; Bas heard it all the same. “We’ll show you how.”

Jacob’s answering smile was wobbly and tired. Bas could continue to push this, or he could let it go and try taking Jacob’s mind off his worries. Perhaps he needed that more than a confidence boost tonight.

Bas stood, unplugged the clippers, and wrapped the cord around the handle. “I heard about this supposedly awesome pirate show on TV.”

Head falling back, Jacob looked up at him with unconcealed relief. And delight. “Black Sails?”

“That’s the one.” Bas smiled as he stepped back, making room for Jacob to stand. “Was thinking I might check out an episode or two. Decide if I wanted to download more for the flight tomorrow.”

“Aye, matey, nothing supposed about it. You’re definitely going to walk that plank.” Smile surer now, Jacob ran a hand over his freshly shorn head and turned toward the shower. “Cue it up while I rinse off.”

Wandering back into their room, Bas ignored the running water and images that teased his subconscious. He’d done right by his team and Jacob tonight. If he could just keep doing right the next two weeks, the medley relay gold would be in their grasp.

Doing right got harder the next morning, in more ways than one.

Jacob had fallen asleep next to Bas, in Bas’s bed, halfway through the second episode of Black Sails. Bas had thought it best to let him sleep rather than risk a return of his earlier nerves. During the night, they’d drifted toward each other, an increasing force of habit, the need to be near each other almost instinctual. Bas knew he should put a stop to it. Christ, even Alex had noticed.

But still Bas indulged.

Like he had in the tattoo parlor a week ago. That night, he’d rationalized his actions as returning the favor, giving Jacob what he needed after the pup had done the same for him. He’d made a similar rationalization last night; he hadn’t wanted to wake Jacob.

This morning, though, there was no rationalizing the hour Bas lay awake in bed, holding Jacob tucked against his side, half sprawled across his chest, Jacob’s cock digging into his thigh. No rationalizing the near-overwhelming urge to roll over and cover Jacob’s inviting mouth and warm body with his own. That was nothing but pure desire, pure want, for the impressive young man Bas was getting to know and like better every day.

But acting on his impulses wouldn’t be good for anyone. Not for the team and most of all not for Jacob. History—his own and that of the other men in his family—dictated it wouldn’t end well for the pup. Bas had promised Alex he wouldn’t fuck things up this time—that he’d look out for the rook—and with Alex’s spot on the team in jeopardy, it was even more imperative that Bas keep his promises.

Which was why, when Jacob started to wake and every part of him stiffened—Bas would bet with surprise and embarrassment—Bas closed his eyes and deepened his breathing, feigning sleep. What followed was a serious test of restraint, fighting his desire . . . and laughter.

“Shit!” Jacob cursed low as he scooted out from under Bas’s arm and toward the side of the bed. The sheet went sliding with him, then with a muffled “oof” and a thump, the sheet disappeared altogether. Bas peeked through his eyelashes, making sure Jacob wasn’t hurt. It was last night’s T-shirt incident all over again. Tangled on the floor, Jacob was fighting with the sheet like his life depended on it; how someone with so little control over his limbs was also a world-class swimmer remained a mystery. Bas had to bite his tongue and claw the mattress to keep from shaking with laughter. A string of quiet, sailor-worthy curses later, Jacob finally freed himself, and Bas snapped his eyes closed, still pretending to sleep as Jacob tossed the sheet back over him.

Peeking again after a moment, Bas watched him scurry across the three feet to his bed, tripping over his shoes and tumbling onto the mattress. Jacob smothered a groan in his pillow, and Bas had to roll the other way, toward the wall, to smother a laughing groan of his own.

He was halfway back to sleep when someone knocked on their door. Rolling over, he caught Jacob’s confused eyes before they darted away.

“I’ll get it,” Bas said, climbing out of bed. Down the short hallway, he opened the door to a hassled-looking Coach Hartl.

He held out an airplane ticket envelope, printed with the same logo as the one in Bas’s messenger bag. “You want to do the honors?”

Bas flipped it open and read the passenger’s name. “Fuck yeah!” he answered, pumping his fist in the air.

“Figured you might.” Coach clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna grab a couple hours of sleep before we leave. You fools be on the bus at one.”

“Yes, sir.” Bas closed the door and fell back against it, smiling wide. “Hey, Pup!” he shouted into the room.

Pink-cheeked, eyes downcast, Jacob appeared around the corner. “What’s going on?”

“Throw on some sweats! We’ve got good news to deliver.” He held the ticket aloft. “Captain’s back.”

Jacob’s big green eyes shot up, finally meeting his. “Alex is cleared?”

“Things are looking golden, Pup.”

He allowed himself one more indulgence, soaking in the toothy smile that split Jacob’s face.