“I’m aware of the requirements for valid confession,” Jason says tightly. “I don’t need a catechism lecture from you.”
Of all people goes unstated but I ignore that barb. “So, if we sinned, why have you not confessed?” Jason’s adherence to his religion is really none of my business, but I’m on the brink of something here, I can feel it.
“It’s late, Victor. I’m going to bed.” He steps forward to continue along the path but I refuse to move out of his way. He sidesteps along the edge of the path and I match him step for step, keeping my body between him and escape.
“Were you not contrite?” I say in a low voice, and I step even closer so my mouth is near his ear. Jason freezes in his tracks. “Or could you not muster the intent to sin no more?”
“Victor,” he says. There’s a note of deep pain in his voice.
“I’ve never regretted it,” I tell him. “I would do it again in a heartbeat. I would have done it again that night, if you’d been willing.”
Jason’s throat clicks as he swallows. “Don’t tell me that,” he says. “Please.”
I hadn’t ever planned to. “It’s true,” I say. “Or any night since.” I can feel the heat of his face near mine. If I turn the slightest bit to my left, my lips will brush his skin. “Tonight, even. If you’re willing.”
Jason exhales a shaky puff of air past my ear. My dick hardens immediately.
“It wasn’t a sin, Jason,” I say quietly. “You weren’t married anymore. You were a widower. You vowed to be faithful to Leah until death parted you, and it did.”
“That doesn’t make what we did right,” he says. “I put her in the ground that fucking morning, Victor.”
That dashes cold water on my arousal. I take two steps back, putting an arm’s length between us. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” I drag my hand through my hair and rub the back of my neck. “I shouldn’t have made light of your faith.”
Jason blows another breath out and lifts a hand to his face. It’s trembling slightly. “Apology accepted.”
Which doesn’t make me feel any better for the ass I’ve been.
I let Jason walk ahead of me on the path back to our casita. When we arrive, we leave our shoes outside the door and Jason sighs as he drops onto the sofa in the living area.
“Tired?” I ask.
He leans his head back on the cushions and nods. “Wiped,” he says. “But also, I don’t know, wired, I guess.”
Probably from the adrenaline of the confrontation we just had, so I search for something that might relax him. “Wine?” I offer. The wine on the credenza is a French bordeaux that looks decent. “Or tea?” Between the wine bottles and a one-cup coffee maker is a box with a selection of teas. I flip through the tea options. “There’s probably something herbal in here that may help you sleep.”
“Fuck it,” he says. “Wine.”
Okay then. I open the bottle and pour a healthy amount into a pair of wine glasses, then bring them over to the sofa. Jason shifts to one end to make room for me. When I hand him a glass, our fingers brush and I don’t apologize for it, but I don’t turn it into the flirtatious gesture I might have otherwise, either. I’ve learned my lesson, apparently.
“What did you think of Logan and Silas?” Jason asks. “Have you met them before?”
I take a sip and shake my head. After swallowing—and Jason’s not looking at my throat while I’m doing it, don’t be stupid; he’s just looking in my general direction—I say, “I like them. That Silas seems like a handful.”
“He’s awfully young,” Jason says. He sounds like he disapproves of their age gap.
I shrug. “They seem devoted to each other. To each their own, right?”
Jason makes a noncommittal sound and sips his wine. “Logan seemed a little…not controlling, exactly, but…”
“Oh, he’s a Daddy Dom, for sure.”
“A what?” Jason stares at me, his wine glass loosely resting on his knee.
“They’ve got a Daddy/boy dynamic going on. Didn’t you hear Silas slip and almost call Logan ‘Daddy’ at dinner?”
Jason still looks confused. He’s got this adorable wrinkle at the bridge of his nose.
I look away from it. “I mean, who can know what really goes on in another couple’s relationship, right? But my guess is that Logan is the Daddy and takes care of his boy. Pampers him, disciplines him when he’s naughty, that kind of thing. Silas strikes me as a boy with high brat potential.”
