Page 9 of Jumping In
“Making you realize you need to stop playing around with silly boys and start getting serious with a real man.” Hawk turned the key and shifted the truck into drive.
Though he wasn’t completely certain due to the veil of alcohol clouding his brain, Clint was pretty sure he was being insulted.
“I’m not silly,” he said defensively.
“I agree.” Hawk flicked his gaze over and dragged it down Clint’s body. “There’s nothing silly about you.”
“But you said—”
“I was talking about Ewan Griffin.” Hawk flared his nostrils and clenched his jaw. “Why you wasted all that time with that limp dick, I’ll never know. He’d wouldn’t come close to being good enough for you on his best day, and from what I can tell, he has only bad days.”
Clint’s jaw dropped and he stared at Hawk in surprise.
“How’d you know?” he eventually asked.
“That Ewan’s a spineless ass who isn’t worth your time?”
“No.” Clint shook his head. Ewan’s abrasive personality was hard to miss so he wasn’t surprised that Hawk didn’t like him. “That we were—” He stopped mid-sentence. Hawk couldn’t know about his relationship with Ewan so he probably meant something else and Clint was misunderstanding.
“That the two of you were fucking?” Hawk said.
Okay, so Hawk did know.
“Damn but you’re cute.”
“Guys my size aren’t cute,” Clint protested.
“Those red cheeks and dimples say different.”
“It’s too dark to see my cheeks.” But his face did feel hot.
“I see you just fine, Clint.”
There was a world of meaning behind that drawl but try as he might, Clint couldn’t figure out what it was. He was usually much sharper than this.
“I drank too much,” he muttered.
“You’re a cute drunk.”
“Again with the cute.” Clint snorted and shook his head. “I’m almost your size.”
Slowly turning his head to look at Clint, Hawk arched one eyebrow and said, “I’ve got a couple of inches on you.”
That time, the meaning behind the words was clear. Clint was drunk, not dead and he couldn’t miss the interest in Hawk’s appraisal. Or at least that was what he hoped. Either way, he was going with it.
“Doubtful.” Clint pawed at his groin. “I have a great dick.”
“I’m sure you do, baby.” Hawk licked his lips, making Clint whimper. “And I’ve been waiting a long time to get a look at it.”
So he was right about Hawk’s meaning, but he was completely outmatched by the man in the flirting department. Well, as long as the night ended with the two of them naked, he supposed they’d both be winners.
“Are you gay?” he asked, needing to know what he was walking into. Or driving into. Or, more accurately, being driven into. What the hell were they talking about?
“I just told you I want to play with your cock.” Hawk arched his eyebrows, but didn’t take his gaze off the road. “Doesn’t that answer your question?”
“You said look, not play.” Clint adjusted himself in his jeans, his growing erection not comfortable in the constrained space. “And you could be bi.” Or he could be so ashamed and scared that he told everyone he was straight, including the guy he was fucking.
“I’m gay,” Hawk said, his voice firm, unapologetic, and the furthest thing in the world from scared or ashamed. “And I’m going to look at your cock while I play with you.” He groaned and, with one hand still on the wheel, reached into his lap and rubbed the heel of his hand against the prominent bulge in his slacks. “Or maybe I should start with your ass.” He gulped. “God damn, but do you have an ass made for jeans.”
