He’d considered a lot of shit over his lifetime, but touching another man’s dick wasn’t coming up on the list. “Not really.”
“Are we going to be weird now?” Heath’s voice was quiet.
“Is that why you’re not looking at me?”
The pillows rustled as he nodded. “That, and once I move, things are going to be cold and very gooey.”
Evan laughed again. “We’re fine, Lennox.”
He relaxed and emerged from the pillows. “Okay, good. Don’t move. I’ll grab a towel.”
“Should I pay as much attention to that request as you did?”
“I don’t see you complaining about it now.”
“Fair point.”
Evan relaxed and closed his eyes as Heath’s weight shifted and disappeared, replaced by the promised cold and gooey, and a strange sense of longing. Something about the weight andwarmth. The feeling of being pinned. Compliant. He… liked it, and he missed it immediately.
What in the actual hell had come over him?
He opened his eyes and looked down at his chest and stomach and started laughing. That was probably the wrong question.
“What’s so funny?” Heath was standing there and staring at him with a lopsided smile on his face. His chest wore a matching sheen.
“If I tell you, you’re going to groan and accuse me of being twelve.”
“It’s a cum joke then, is it?”
“Weren’t you getting a towel?”
Heath uttered a guilty sigh. “I’m going, I’m going. It’s just?—”
The silence stretched a beat longer than Evan could stand. “Just?”
“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
He was hardly a shrinking violet, but the reverence in Heath’s voice struck him with a powerful urge to cover himself.
“Well, so are you.”
And he meant it, which was the crazy part. This thing between him and Heath was… weird. And intense. Clearly attraction, but different. Cerebral first, then physical. Like the more he’d gotten to know his brain, the more his body wanted in on the action.
Heath flushed crimson and excused himself, hurrying off to the bathroom.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he yelled, getting up from the couch while being mindful of the mess.
Heath met him in the doorway. “No. Well, yes. A little.”
“Why?”
He’d grabbed two of the smaller hand towels and tossed oneat Evan’s chest, then leaned against the doorframe and cleaned himself up.
“Beautiful is…” He waved his hand as if searching the air between them for the word. “I’m a solid average.”
Was he fishing? On their maiden voyage?
“Heath, Nate is a solid average. Olivia’s cousin Carl is a solid average. The guy who organizes the shed of water toys?—”
