Chapter 101
And Jason got weak at the knees.
That was Colby, and wasn’t. That was a role, and wasn’t.
That was Colby in character—flirtatious and sexy and owning those clinging jeans and that barely-a-shirt, shifting that stance, licking those lips—but that was also Colby: sweet and determined and hopeful behind brazenness and eyeliner and a black leather jacket.
This Colby wanted someone, and wasn’t bashful about it; Colby believed that he’d find someone at this bar who’d want him too, who’d be kind and compassionate and equally thrilled about the encounter and the night. This version of Colby wanted to be swept off his feet and taken hard, fucked until he screamed in ecstasy, and he was looking for someone who’d do exactly that, with equal delight shared and given. Blue eyes were honest and transparent in the joy of it, which consequently came across as almost innocent, and hit Jason below the belt with unfair iridescent heat.
He fumbled through, “Oh fuck yes.”