Panic seizes Jackson’s chest. Did he just kill the moment with his stupid, nervous laugh?
But then Ethan peels off his Henley, undoes his belt. Kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. In the cold moonlight, Ethan’s tighty-whities glow fluorescent.
Every vein in Jackson’s body throbs with want. His eyes linger over Ethan’s almost-bare body. Lean muscles taut and rippled, skin velvety smooth, those eyes glinting down at Jackson.
“Join me?” Ethan lowers himself into the water from a ladder attached to the dock. “It’s not deep here, so I shouldn’t drown. But you can hold me up if I look like I’m in danger.” He winks.
Jackson’s hands claw at his shirt, paw at his jeans; he’s never undressed so fast in his life. Standing on the dock, he feels exposed in his thin boxers, his body offered up for Ethan’s approval. Damn his lame home gym and lackluster exercise regimen. Why has he let himself go? But as he flicks his gazedown to Ethan’s, he sees he has nothing to worry about. A grin as wide as a crocodile’s cracks Ethan’s face, his eyes roving hungrily over Jackson’s body.
He climbs down the ladder, pond water like a warm bath enveloping him into a hug.
Standing, their chests peek over the surface.
“Feels amazing, right?” Ethan asks, dipping his head into the water, shaking it off like a wet dog.
“Yes, it’s refreshing,” Jackson says dumbly.
“I’d stay out here all night if I could. Sometimes I feel trapped, sleeping in there—”
The house is so far away, it looks like a miniature of itself, a dollhouse shrouded in shadows.
“I hear ya,” Jackson replies, even though he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t feel trapped in his own house, just lonely.
A hot breeze blasts over them, puckering the surface of the pond, shredding the stand of fuzzy pines that sit off to one side. Between his toes, the ground is squishy.
Ethan takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, exhales as though he’s releasing the weight of the world off his toned shoulders. When he opens them again, that mischievous grin is back, smeared across his lips.
He takes a step forward to Jackson.
They are so close, their skin is almost touching.
He leans in even farther as he stretches to reach the whiskey bottle resting behind Jackson on the dock. As he retrieves it, his arm grazes Jackson’s neck. Ethan tips the bottle up to his lips,takes a shot. Still clasping it, he tilts it to Jackson’s lips, inching even closer as he does.
Thump, thump, thump, Jackson’s heartbeat gongs in his ears. He accepts a sip.
As soon as the glass leaves his lips, Ethan’s mouth is on him, the bottle thudding against the dock.
Ethan teases at first, his lips only brushing against Jackson’s, nothing more.
Jackson stands in the water, stock-still, not wanting to mess this up. And wanting to make sure that what is happening is actually happening.
Ethan’s tongue parts Jackson’s lips.
Holy hell, this is actually happening.
His fingers crawl to the back of Jackson’s neck as he kisses him full on, sending shivers skittering down Jackson’s spine.
This man can kiss.
Good grief, can he kiss.
And Jackson kisses him back, wrapping his arms around him.
Ethan unlatches his lips, sways like he’s swooning. Locks his copper eyes onto Jackson’s. “I’ve thought about doing this since the first time I bumped into you at that bar.”
Language is drained from Jackson’s system. He can respond only in kisses. He pulls Ethan’s face to his, then drags his hand down Ethan’s chest, which smolders. Ethan moans. Shaky, Jackson slides his hand inside the waistband of Ethan’s underwear, begins touching him.
“My God,” Ethan utters, then nibbles on Jackson’s shoulder.
