Page 58 of The Prodigal Son

Isaac

Jensen is flipping burgers on the grill in nothing but a pair of tight swim trunks with a cold beer in his hand. And I’m just relaxing in my pool and enjoying the view.

Having him in my house is surreal. This is boyfriend shit. And I don’t normally do boyfriend shit, but I’m enjoying this.

He’s seemed to relax since the conversation about him being a pastor. If only he knew the reason his being a pastor in Austin is slightly strange for me, the fact that it reminds me of my father. But Jensen is nothing like him. It’s like he’s rewriting history.

And maybe that’s why I like him so much. Because he is righting the wrongs of Truett Goode.

“Let’s eat,” he calls as he plates our burgers and shuts off the grill.

It’s so fucking domestic. Eating together. Spending our Saturday together, talking about the weather, the house, and the food. And you know…I don’t fucking hate it.

Jensen Miles looks good in my house.

He looks good in my life.

For a moment, it feels like everything will be okay and we can actually make this work. And if I’m honest, him being a pastor only makes it look more appropriate for a guy like me. Who would possibly suspect us of anything inappropriate?

I’m just a country music star with a good Christian friend.

After we eat, we both get in the water to cool off. He leans against the side of the pool with his arms propped up on the edge behind him. Swimming up to him with a grin on my face, I let the water drip down my shoulders as I slide my hands up his body.

He reaches up and tousles my wet curls, letting one drip over my eye. Then, he smooths them over the top of my head as he leans in to kiss my lips.

Something is different about Jensen today. He seems tense.

“Everything okay?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck so our bodies are flush.

“Yeah,” he says flatly. “Wish I didn’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah,” I say with a smirk. “Kind of a big deal to show up on the only day of the week you do work.”

He shakes his head as if he can’t believe I’m being so casual about this. “I do work other days, but yes, it is a big deal that I’m there.”

“You don’t have to spend the night if you don’t want to,” I say, secretly hoping he does.

His eyes meet mine with sincerity. “No, I do.” Then he draws his fingers along my jaw before stealing another kiss.

“Good,” I mumble. “I want you to too.”

“And what exactly would you like to do?” he whispers with his lips close to my ear.

Heat travels down my spine at his words. “I think you know exactly what I’d like to do.”

“I want to hear you say it,” he replies with a rasp in his voice, teasing me with his mouth on my ear.

There’s a flutter of embarrassment in my gut but also intense arousal at his dominating tone. He has me practically purring with his mouth on my neck.

Then he spins us until my back is against the pool wall. Without moving his mouth, he adds, “I’m waiting.”

I’m nearly panting, my heart going a mile a minute when I say, “I want you to fuck me.”

Heat cascades down my spine as soon as the words leave my mouth.

He growls against my skin, making my cock ache with need. How does he do this? How does he make me feel like some virginal teenager who blushes at the mention of sex? I’ve been fucked and asked to be fucked countless times but never like this. Never with such anticipation.

I have never wanted itthismuch.

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