I’ll never know what he was going to say, what excuse he would’ve armed me with to avoid further exploration, because my lips devoured his as my hand squeezed his chest so hard I might’ve been making orange juice.
“Ow!” He squirmed beneath me. “Easy on theboobie.”
I snort-laughed, my head falling onto his neck again. “Boobie? Seriously? How old are you?”
Two fingers found their way into my sides and dug in. This time, I leaped up. Our legs were still tangled together, so I lost my balance and fell sideways off the couch, banging my side on the coffee table and landing onto a Thai container. The sickeningsplattold both of us everything we needed to know about the fate of what would’ve been tomorrow’s lunch.
Jacks lost it.
I let my head fall back until it smacked the floor.
Moisture seeped into my shirt and slimed my skin. I’d become a wonton or some other sauced item, literally.
“Serves you right, trying to milk my baby feeder like that.”
“Baby feeder?” I spat, laughter tumbling out despite the smarmy feeling soaking into my shirt and smearing my back.
That was a moment in which two grown men dissolved into pre-teen boys, giggling and laughing at their own ridiculousness, telling one stupid joke or offbeat comment after another. Each was stupid. None would’ve even earned a laugh in the locker room. And yet, lying there on my floor atop a tub of spicy goodness with Jacks a foot away on my couch,everything was hilarious.
It might’ve been the most innocent, sweet moment I’d ever experienced.
And it was utterly disgusting.
“Okay, enough!” I said, feigning outrage, as I pushed myself up from the floor, sauce dripping from my shirt onto the butt of my jeans. “I’ve seen gross in the locker room, but this . . . this is gross.”
Jacks chuckled. “Did you roll in the stuff? It’s all over your back and butt.”
I tried to look behind me, nearly tripping over the damn coffee table again in the process.
Jacks smothered another laugh. “We should soak your clothes so they don’t stain.”
I looked down and raised a brow. “Are you trying to get me naked?”
Jacks blanched. “Sky, no, I—”
I reached down and yanked my shirt over my head and off. Whatever protest Jacks meant to utter died as he stared up, his gaze roaming first across my bare chest, then down my torso. Unlike him, I was in peak shape, a pro athlete with the body fat percentage to prove it. He didn’t quite drool as he counted the ripples, but his eyes did widen.
“Help me with these jeans?” I asked.
He blinked a couple of times, and I wondered if he’d refuse, but his hand lifted and fingers pried atthe top button.
I think my whole body thrummed in time with my racing heart.
Watching him pop the button free, then reach up with his other hand and grip the zipper, his fingers so close to my cock, closer than any man had ever been, made the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention.
He scooted to sit upright on the couch so he could reach his hands inside my jeans and pull them down. My cock was stiff, barely contained within the tighty-whities I always wore. Jacks’s grin was instant the moment he saw it.
“Well, hello, hockey star.”
“I think he likes you,” I managed through a gulp.
“Mmm,” was all Jacks said in reply.
I stepped on the bottom of my jeans and let him slip them off, careful to avoid splattering Thai sauce all over the couch and floor.
“Jesus, Sky,” Jacks said, his eyes lifting to take my nearly naked form in again.
“What?” I asked, more self-conscious than I’d been in years.
