Page 75 of On Thin Ice

“Did you like it?”

But Finn knew he had. Had watched as Jacob had taken him in, eyes dilating, chest rising and falling sharply as he’d stared. He’d caught him staring all night, and Jacob’s gaze had been more intoxicating than any of the wine he’d drunk.

“You know I did. Kind of hated it, too,” Jacob said. He grinned fiercely, and something deep inside Finn throbbed. “You should take it off.”

“I . . .I can do that.” Finn swallowed hard. Shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it carefully on the back of a chair. Then followed suit, by discarding his shoes and socks.

They matched now, at least until Jacob finished unbuttoning his dark gray shirt, muscles rippling as he took it off, revealing the strength of his upper body.

“Come on, now,” Jacob teased. He didn’t linger at his belt but unbuckled it with sure fingers that weren’t shaking. Not like Finn’s.

Jacob’s belt hit the deck. Then his pants pooled around his ankles.

Ironically, just a few days ago Finn had tried to claim that Jacob had no experience with good sex, but he was beginning to think that was him, now. Because none of his hookups had ever felt like this.

Finn had a feeling that if he confessed the truth, Jacob would tell him that he’d been toying with boys, not fucking with men—and he probably wouldn’t be wrong, but it was more than that, too.

Everything about this felt different.

He’d never been this hot for anyone before—God, those powerful thighs and chest and shoulders and all his olive-toned skin smooth, only a trail of dark hair leading to his black boxer briefs which . . .Finn swallowed hard, again. They clung to him in the best kind of way, making it very obvious that this striptease was affecting him as strongly as it was affecting Finn.

But Jacob still tucked his fingers into the waistband and, without a single hesitation, tugged his underwear down.

Finn jerked, like he’d just been shocked.

He’d been so sure that he’d be the one daring Jacob to cross the line, and here he was, without a stitch on, climbing into the hot tub without an ounce of visible shame.

He’s got nothing to be ashamed of. Not a goddamn thing.

Jacob settled down into the hot water with a happy sigh. He shot Finn a blunt look. “You coming?” he asked.

He didn’t have to point out that this had been all Finn’s idea—three weeks ago, when he’d first tried to call Jacob’s bluff, and now tonight. And he was the one who was still mostly clothed. The one still waffling.

Finn gathered his dignity—and his courage. “Yeah.”

If his dad could see him about to do this, he’d lose his shit. But he’d also tell him that a Reynolds didn’t back down from a challenge,ever.

He tugged his shirt off, laying it next to his jacket. Trying to emulate Jacob, he didn’t hesitate. Just unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the wooden deck.

The sharp intake of breath from the vicinity of the hot tub told him that even his matter-of-fact stripping act was having its desired effect.

He didn’t let himself think. Just stripped his briefs off, any shame he felt at being so completely fucking hard doused by the sharp heat spiking through him at how Jacob was looking at him now.

Finn climbed in, and like he’d promised, he kept to the opposite side.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jacob asked, tilting his head back, his newly shorn face swathed with steam.

He’d looked great with the beard. He looked even better without it. Younger, Finn realized, and had to wonder if that was why Jacob had shaved.

“I don’t know,” Finn said, “it’s pretty hard.”

Jacob’s face settled into a satisfied, smug smile. “There he is. Welcome back.”

Finn glared, but the only heat in it was the heat pooling in his belly. At how much he wanted to glide over to Jacob’s side of the hot tub and break his promise.

“I’m sure,” Jacob said, unexpectedly chatty tonight, “you thought all you had to do was wear that suit and I would just fall to my knees, eternally fucking grateful.”

Finn told himself he shouldn’t be embarrassed at how transparent he’d been. He wanted this, he could own up to it.

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