“We will catch hell regardless,” I reminded him, looking up with my chin to his inner thigh. His grin was wolfish, and he ran a hand down my face, cupping my scruff and running fingers through it.
Apparently, since we spent most of our free time together, Jack and I were fair game to his family. They were all very open about things, including who was sleeping with who. In the past six weeks we had been in one orthe other’s bed. Lately, it had been Jack’s bed, because while my condo was ready and I was there, my bed had yet to arrive, so it was a mattress on the floor. Not that I had actually used it.
Jack had teased me, but moving as much as I had for the past five years didn’t leave a lot of time for acquiring furniture and the like. The important things from my life in Boston were stored in Texas. I hadn’t seen some of those things in years. I hadfledthe states in a rush, leaving it to a company to pack up and ship to a storage facility close to my parents.
“Worth it for the food,” he said. And that was true, too. I didn’t care anything about cooking, not like Quinn and Matt did anyway, so part of being Jack’s friend, and lover, was that there was always fresh powder and great food, which were two of my most favorite things in the world, although Jack’s body was also very high on that list.
I had assumed when we started fooling around that it was too much, too fast, too intense to last. But, I liked him, and similarly assumed when it burned itself out I would at least have good friends out of the situation. Jack was sweet and funny. He seemed like the kind of guy you could sleep with and then still be friends with. We liked the same things, the good food and good powder being chief among them.
I guessed that was obvious, but we also enjoyed being outside as much as possible, and good music. Neither of us cared to go to a club, or really even a rowdy bar, but we both loved the family dinners on Sunday evenings at the big house with his moms, and the evening meals we shared at the bar or kitchen of the Inn, or Quinn’s place, after a great run to end the day. We went out to hear music, went to a few local events, with enjoyable similar taste. But now, well, it was hard to imagine not being with him. It was just what we did, and after five years of some pretty intense alone-time, and loneliness, I wasn’t complaining when his hot body fell asleep against mine every night. I hadn’t slept like this since I was a kid. And I sure as hell hadn’t had a lover like this - ever.
Somehow, the familiarity did not lessen the intensity of our connection. I wasn’t lying when I told him that it was hard to keep my hands off of him when I knew he was getting tired and I knew what he wanted in bed. I knew what those green eyes were pleading for as we rode up the lift together on a Sunday. I knew what would happen when we stumbled out of our snow gear and into each other’s arms. And I knew how damnedgoodit would be.
On a regular night, the menu was wide open in bed with Jack. But, there was something fucking intense about knowing exactly what your partner wanted.
“P? You back, baby?” he teased, sensing me get lost in my own thoughts for a minute, his hands were still on my face, pulling it up to look at him.
“I’m here,” I smiled, getting up, and pulling him with me. “You need water,” I said, knowing that my time in the care-taking role was about up, so I better get it in while I could.
Jack pulled me into his arms and kissed me softly. I still stirred, naked against his own bare skin. He laughed softly. “Already?” he quipped, noting my cock trying to show its appreciation.
“You know what you do to me, Jack,” I said simply, moving to the kitchen to get the water.
He moved to grab some towels, and I knew he was headed to the small hot tub on his deck. I had made fun of him, calling hot tubs clichéfor a ski town, and he had shown me why it was about the best thing in the damn world after skiing and sex. So, I handed him his water as I slid in the hot spray beside him, my hands automatically going to his knee to rub out any knots that existed there.
Jack let me touch him in that vulnerable spot, although weeks ago I could tell he wasn’t that comfortable with it, but he trusted me now, and actually lay back and let me work out the knots and looked happy about it. Jack’s apartment overlooked the wooded area near the lift, not the busy ski village at the bottom. The hot tub was almost secluded, and I wouldn’t let him know how much I loved it out there. He would give me hell for sure, given my earlier words.
Jacks lips were still red and swollen, but he moved over to climb on my lap, straddling me, and I blew out a breath when his dick slid against mine, both of ours trying to rally but it was wishful thinking. I gave him a look to gage his mood. He studied me for a moment, then ran his hands through my hair, pushing it behind an ear.
“Do you have any idea how you make me feel, Perrin?” He asked softly, searching my eyes.
It’s not like we hadn’t had these conversations, pillow talk or whatever people called it. We had spent hours chatting with each other, face to face, back to front, heads in laps, and any other configuration.
One particular night neither of us wanted to sleep, so we stayed up, heads laying by feet, and we shared embarrassing stories with each other. We became convinced by some good scotch Matt gave us that somehow speaking them out loud would negate the embarrassment. I sure as shit didn’t have any parents who would share that with him, or anyone, ever. I had also been to enough family dinners, ski sessions, and impromptu meals with theMannsto know that anything halfway embarrassing was fair game. They called each other on their shit, in the very best way.
But, the look on Jack’s face today was deeper than pillow talk.
I was struggling with a few adjustments to my new life - especially since it was about the time I would normally be starting to look for a new place to go, another hospital to work.I was feeling some kind of way, that was for sure. Not a negativefeeling, necessarily, but I really had underestimated how much creating a permanent residence would kick up my past. Maybe he knew I needed some softness right then.
“Tell me, sweetheart,” I said, bringing my hands up his back, my fingertips resting his shoulder blades, as he folded in to come down enough to meet my lips. He pulled back and studied me, shaking his head slightly.
“I can’t P, don’t have the words,” he sighed.
“Yeah?” I asked, and lolled my head back and let the hot water do what it was supposed to do.
“God, you are beautiful,” he breathed, kissing my neck and ending all other talk from there.
“Then tell me,” I asked again.
He brushed his lips across mine. As much as I loved the intimacy we had just shared, these long, languid kisses - both knowing we were too spent for it to go anywhere - made me burn for him for hours afterward. Jack’s eyes found mine again, and there was a blush to his face.
“Like I can tell you what I want,” he said, finishing his earlier thought.
I captured his lips for a moment. “I want to give you what you want, Jack. And I want you to tell me everything.”
He kissed me then, and gave me a smirk. I knew what it meant, that he wanted me to tell him everything too, and I did want that.
I wasn’t there, but I wanted to be.
