“You do it to me, too. So where’s the perv?” That deserved a kiss. Oh, yes it did. Dillon took one, loving on the man.
Coke opened up to him, moaning right into his lips, relaxing for him. Jesus, Coke wanted him better than anyone had.
Maybe better than anyone ever would.
He couldn’t wait to find out…
Chapter Seventeen
Coke turned the burgers, humming a little under his breath and letting the sun beat on his bare shoulders. Dillon was sleeping hard and Coke hated to wake the man, so he’d pottered.
He’d got the pool cleaned and the salt levels in the water set. Sprayed the cedar off the a/c unit. Swept the ceramic tiles. Dusted some.
Oiled the four wheelers.
Chased a copperhead out of the smoker.
Started burgers.
All in all, he was wearing down and feeling righteous, all at once.
Especially since he kept wandering by his bedroom door and peeking in to see Dillon in his bed, his granny’s quilts all bunched up around that fine fucking body.
Damn.
On his last pass-by, he found Dillon with the covers thrown off, ass up and head down, snuffling a little. Oh, God, that was cute. Not to mention that Dillon’s ass was enough to give a man palpitations.
He put the two plates of burgers and tater tots aside on his little bedside table, then did what he’d been needing to—sliding his fingers, careful as could be, over that tight, sweet ass.
“I made burgers and tater tots.” He motioned to the plate. He wasn’t sure he could move, though, with Dillon’s fine ass right there.
“Dude. You rock.” Dillon wiggled out from under the covers like a landed fish or some such, bounding out of bed, everything bouncing. “I’ll get us a beer. You stay here. Rest. Be right back!”
He nodded, stared for half a second.
Old.
He was really old.
Really.
Still, he was going to watch Dillon’s taut little ass all the way down the hall. He grinned at his own dipshittery.
Dipshittery?
Was that even a word?
He reckoned it was now.
Dillon was back in moments, beers in hand, sashaying. That was the only word for it. The man was like, line dancing all the way to him.
He liked all the dangly bits, but he loved the smile more. That expression was fond and warm and all for him. Dillon just seemed to have all the happy in the world sometimes, even when things were tough.
“I didn’t shake them up. Just me.”
“Thank God for that. We don’t need a beer soaked mattress, no sir.” He took one of the bottles and handed over a plate as soon as Dillon settled.
“Mmm. This smells amazing. Good thing I’m running a lot. I need to stay lean.”
