Page 83 of Gross Misconduct

I take in more details of Jack. The heat of his tongue, the way his nose feels pressed against mine, the little gasp intake of breath he takes because he’s not as suave as he thinks he is. I want every detail.

He dots my lips with pecks, caressing his hands through my beard. I press my tongue to his teeth.

“Slow,” he says. His hands shift from caressing my beard to directing my mouth. “This isn’t a game. There’s no buzzer. Slow.”

Jack demonstrates, sliding his tongue into my mouth, rolling it around, massaging my tongue, then slipping it out, a fish I can’t catch. Our mouths open and close as his tongue gently slips in, his fingers sliding over my beard, moans coming from deep within him. The result is hypnotic and relaxing. I didn’t expect to be relaxed while kissing Jack. The methodical movement of his lips and hands and the circling of his tongue send me into a blissed-out daze where time stands still.

“Like that,” he says, pulling back, his cheeks flush and eyes so black I hardly recognize them. But I recognize that smirk, softer, staring back at me. “You try.”

I touch my lips to his, savor their saltiness. Our mouths open and close in sync. My tongue slides into his cavernous space and swims around, sending tingles down my neck. The effect is pure magic, like that feeling of careening down the ice, wind whipping across my visor, blades gliding through the ice, rhythm perfectly in sync. I rake my hands through his hair, letting myself savor the roughness of each strand. I brush against the prickly hairs on the back of his freshly buzzed neck. I pull him harder against me, my soul feeling freer than ever in my life.

Even though we’re not sharing our biggest secrets, this feels scarily intimate, but I’m not scared. I feel a trust with Jack. He may have more experience with guys, but I doubt any of them have been as magical as this.

Jack moans against my lips. His fingernails dig into my back.

“That was good,” he says, gasping for air. “Really good.”

He throws his arms around my neck. I go in for round three. His moans gets louder and more instant as our lips touch, and I get more confident with my kissing.

“You’re a fast learner,” he says into my mouth.

“I’m not a newbie,” I say defensively.

“I get the sense you haven’t done this with other guys.”

My protectiveness over my sexual history comes out. He presses a finger to my mouth to stop me.

“I’m not judging.” Kindness shines through in his dark eyes. His eyes plead with me to lower my defenses.

I push him backward against the doorframe and close the gap between our lips, the smacking sound our mouths make is a most delightful melody. That’s when I remember the door is open. It’s not like Sourwood’s never seen two guys kiss, but they don’t need to know my business.

I rake a hand through his hair and stare into his eyes as our lips part.

“I like kissing you,” I tell him. I rub a thumb on his stubble.

Jack pulls back, and we gaze into each other’s eyes, no fear, no wondering about what happens next. Just enjoying the moment. Just being with him.

This is nice. Just as nice as our sexual escapades, but in a different way.

He brushes his hand against my fly, sending a wild burst of heat through my core.

“Shall we take this somewhere more private? Like your bedroom?” he murmurs.

I pull back, the cold light of reality hitting me. “My bedroom shares a wall with the girls’ room. I don’t want to risk waking them.”

“Agreed. That’d be a future therapy session waiting to happen.”

“Especially with the things you like to say.” I shoot him a wink. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“So what do you want to do?” Jack asks, waiting on me to come up with a plan.

“I don’t feel comfortable fooling around in the house, especially with the way sound travels in here. But we can’t leave them in the house alone.”

“Now I get why parents are so sexually frustrated.” Jack leans against the door. My cock strains against my pants, begging for a solution.

But it’s Jack who seems to have the lightbulb moment. He tugs at my shirt, pulling me flush against him.

“Your truck is in the garage, right?” he asks.

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