Page 22 of Barn Burner
The morning sun casts a warm ray of light through the window, highlighting Jesse in a glow, bringing out the different shades of brown in his hair and the stubble lining his jaw. Shadows sit in the dips and grooves of his impressive body and beneath the dark hair dusting across his chest and down his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his boxers. Boxers that cradle a large bulge that would fit perfectly in the palm of my hand if I reached out to cup it.
“You’re starin’ again,” he murmurs, raising his hand that isn’t holding the spatula to rub over his jaw.
The sound of his stubble grazing his palm causes a shiver to travel down my spine. Damn, I want to feel it scraping all over my body. Between my thighs. Between my ass cheeks. In the crook of my neck while he sucks on my skin.
I let out a shaky breath. “I can’t help it. I like you.”
He arches a brow.
“What? Don’t act surprised. You must have known since you picked me up like I was a stray cat that I’m attracted to you.”
“Never said I was surprised.”
“No, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. I have no idea why I’m getting bratty with him. His quiet personality is something I like a lot. I’m surrounded by people who constantly share their opinions, regardless of whether I want to know or not or whether it be about me or my performance or my teammates. Being around Jesse is nice because earning his words is like a reward, and I feel like a fucking king when he shares them with me.
Jesse’s silent as he plates up the first batch of french toast. He hands it to me and points to the dining table. “Toppings are over there.”
Swallowing, I hope my voice doesn’t come out like a scratched record. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said.”
Jesse puts more slices of brioche into the bowl to soak, then turns to face me, placing his hands behind him on the counter. “I’m attracted to you, too, Brayden, but we both know that whatever this thing is between us has an expiry date. I don’t know what it is you’re running from, and I’ve not wanted to push you to tell me. But I’m also aware that if I can’t keep you, then I’ll help you be whatever you need me to be right now. Even if it’s just sex.”
A deep ache blooms in my chest at his honesty. I’ve always known my being here is temporary, but hearing him say it?To speak it out loud makes it feel more real. Could we make it work? It’s at least an hour’s drive from the city, but then I spend so much time on the road. Jesse can’t exactly leave the responsibilities he has here because the ranch is a twenty-four-seven operation, and I couldn’t ask him to walk away from it.
And what relationship would it be if we’re barely seeing each other, even once a week? I don’t know if I could live like that.
But I can pretend there isn’t a time limit on our time together. I can trick myself into delusion that this is possible, even for a short while.
“I want you to be who you’d be if I didn’t have to leave,” I admit.
“I can do that,” he answers with a small nod, and then he nudges a chair out with his bare foot and points to it. “Eat your toast, Brayden.”
I do as I’m told, dropping into the seat, and smothering my food in maple syrup. All the while, I watch the flex in Jesse’s back as he makes the next batch. Once I’ve cleared my plate, he picks it up and places it in the sink.
“Get on the table.”
Not sure if I heard him properly, I tilt my head to look up at him. “What?”
He jerks his chin toward the dining table. “On the table.”
Slowly scraping my chair back, I stand up and rest my hands on the flat surface to pull myself up when he growls, “Take off your underwear.”
I hook my thumbs into the elastic and tug them down my legs, letting the material pool at my feet. Naked as the day I was born, I climb up onto the table that sits in front of large windows overlooking the back porch I found him on that first night.
“Hands and knees. Feet on the edge.” He taps the edge of the table with his knuckles, letting me know exactly where he means.
I swallow hard, hoping it’ll dampen my suddenly dry throat, and my body trembles with electricity as I shuffle back. The solid oak digs into my bare knees. With my feet hanging over the edge, I glance over my shoulder to where Jesse is standing, a plate of french toast in hand, watching me with such an intense look.
He looks hungry. Ravenous. Like a wolf who has been starved in the woods and has finally come across his first prey in days.
He pulls out the chair I was just sitting on. The sound of the chair legs scraping against the tiled floor is the only thing I can hear over the pounding of my heart in my ears. He sits down, and I’m acutely aware his face is in perfect position with my ass. I can hear him chewing on his toast, and then the clink of his plate meeting the table causes me to shiver.
“You’re making a mess of my table, Brayden,” he says, gravelly.
I dip my chin to look between my arms, and sure enough, my hard cock is dripping a pool of precome on the wooden surface.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
