Chapter 102
“Come here,” Jason instructed, and reached out and got a grip on, not Colby’s fingers, but one slender wrist. With a squeeze.
He let the grip loosen immediately. Of course.
Colby gasped. In a goodway. Good, then.
“Look at you,” Jason said, “wanting it. Looking like that, coming over here, asking for my help…I’ll give it to you. Back room. Now.”
Colby blinked, kept up with the imagined scenario, smiled. “Yes, please.”
Their living room kept up too. It didn’t mind being a hypothetical leather-clad back room at a club, the same way it hadn’t minded being a pirate’s deck or a space prince’s throne room. It spread big picture windows and giant sofa-cushions at them in shared exuberance.
Jason—gradually, carefully, but firmly too—backed Colby up against their sofa, scooped him up, set him down to perch on the back. Put a hand on Colby’s hip, then slid it to the bulge in black skinny jeans. Rubbed.