Marshall stirred and sat up, treading water and looking around. The water rippled where the current hit him and had to go around, but he remained stationary. Didn’t even look like he was trying.
Adam sighed, leaning against a tree. “Oh, Jesus.”
“Who’s that?” Marshall called.
“Sorry.” Adam pushed off the tree, emerged from the wooded lot, and waved. “Heard a big splash. And you weren’t moving. You, uh, forgot your vest.”
Marshall smiled, quiet but genuine. “Don’t like the vest.”
“Isn’t that cold at this time of year?”
“Feels good.” Marshall pulled to the bank and emerged, skin pebbling over tight muscle, broad, flat chest tapering into a slim waist, narrow hips, and—
Jesus, he was only wearing a pair of little gray boxer briefs, slipping dangerously low. …