Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
One day, months into their relationship, he confessed he did it to keep Will. “I don’t want you to have to choose, you see. If I let you keep your little het game going at school, I get to keep you all for myself.”
They never progressed past oral sex and kissing, and just before sophomore year ended, Justin’s father was transferred to California. Justin was permitted to finish out the year, but then he disappeared and though they promised to stay in contact, they soon lost touch.
Will had missed the sex sessions, but hadn’t really missed Justin. No one had ever made enough of an impression on him for him to miss them when they’d gone. He wondered if this was a shortcoming on his part or on theirs.
Probably both. For whatever reason, he’d chosen men who wouldn’t matter, who couldn’t hurt him, whose leaving wouldn’t faze him.
He slid from Jack’s back and lay down beside him, putting an arm tenderly over his shoulders. What must it have been like—to be married for so many years and then to lose one’s spouse? Did he miss her? Did he wake up aching for her, turning to find her on her side of the bed before he recalled she would never lie there again?
During all those years of marriage, had he ever had gay fantasies? Was it possible to “become” gay so late in life?
Will knew it wasn’t so much a matter of becoming, but of becoming aware. He thought of Paul’s argument about the continuum of sexual desire. Where did Jack fall on that spectrum? Was he merely bi-curious? Once that curiosity had been satisfied, would he reject Will and what he had to offer? Would he come to long for the caress of a woman’s hand? For the secret folds of a female body?
What the hell am I getting myself into?
Jack moaned and opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said sleepily. “I guess I dozed off.”
Will smiled. “I guess you did.”
Jack smiled back. Slowly he lifted his hand. With his thick, blunt-tipped fingers he touched Will’s cheek. He kept his eyes fixed on Will’s, his expression nakedly vulnerable—part fear, part question, part tenderness.
Will felt a peculiar pull in his heart, like someone was reaching in and grabbing hold. He knew as Jack touched his face it was no longer a matter of getting into something. He was already in—deep.
Jack’s eyes slowly closed again, his hand falling from Will’s face as he slipped back into sleep, a half-smile on his lips. Will resisted the urge to wake him, to pull him close and never let him go.
The “crush”, as Jack had quaintly called it, had been building for weeks now. He was beyond the point of being able to step back. For the first time in his thirty years on the planet, his heart was laid bare. He was vulnerable. He was at Jack’s mercy. He was—oh God, say it wasn’t so—in love.
Chapter 8
Jack opened his eyes, squinting in the twilit room. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. He knew he felt very comfortable, his body deeply relaxed against a firm mattress covered in soft bedding. He was on his stomach, his face toward the window, through which the sun was setting in extraordinary gold, pink and deep crimson red splashed over a darkening blue sky.
He could hear water running. As he came fully awake he recalled where he was, on whose bed he lay. The sound was the spray of a shower, Will’s shower. He looked toward the bathroom. The door was ajar.
He sat up and ran his hands through his hair and indulged in a long, lingering, satisfying stretch. He hadn’t felt this relaxed, this physically at ease, in as long as he could remember. He felt energized—ready to run a marathon or swim a mile in the ocean. He felt happy.
Swinging his legs over the bed, he looked around for his shirt and spied it where he’d left it on the chair in a corner of the room. He stood and moved toward it, his path taking him past the open bathroom door.
Unable to resist, he peeked inside. The room was warm and damp, billows of steam fogging the mirrors and swirling in the air. He stepped across the threshold before he realized what he was doing.
He froze in his tracks, riveted by the scene before him.
The shower was enclosed in glass, set into the corner of the room. Unlike most showers Jack was familiar with, this one’s glass was clear. Through the droplets of water and steam he could see Will’s bare body. He knew he should turn around and leave the bathroom at once. He was being impolite. He was spying.
Yet he didn’t move, his eyes held by the sight, which was marred only by a thin veil of steam. Will stood with one hand pressed against the wall, the other wrapped around a long, thick cock. His head was back, the spray hitting his throat and chest.