Page 46 of Holiday Pines

“Very good weird.”

Jake stepped closer, reached up to touch Wes’s jaw. The beard was soft under his fingers. “You cleaned up.”

“Didn’t want to smell like work.”

“I like the way you smell.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jake traced his thumb along Wes’s bottom lip. “But I like this too.”

“I wanted to do this right.” Wes’s hands found Jake’s hips, pulled him closer. “Wanted to take our time.”

“We have time. Real time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Wes kissed him then, softly at first, almost tentative. Jake opened for him, let Wes take what he needed, and felt the kiss deepen—slower than the workshop, less frenzied. They had time. They could savor this.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder, Wes rested his forehead against Jake’s.

“Bed?” Jake asked.

“Yeah. Bed.”

They moved together toward it, hands already working on buttons. Jake got Wes’s shirt open first, pushed it off his broad shoulders, and had to stop and just look. Wes in the workshop had been quick glimpses, desperate touches. Now Jake could see him properly—massive chest dusted with dark hair, solid muscle beneath, the slight softness of a man who worked hard but also liked his barbecue. Real. Beautiful.

“You’re staring,” Wes said, but he was smiling.

“You’re worth staring at.”

Wes huffed a laugh, then pulled Jake’s shirt off, tossed it aside. His hands spanned Jake’s ribs, thumbs brushing nipples, and Jake gasped.

“Sensitive?” Wes asked, doing it again.

“Yeah. Don’t—don’t stop.”

Wes bent, took one nipple in his mouth, and Jake’s knees nearly buckled. He fisted his hands in Wes’s hair, holding on as Wes’s tongue circled and flicked.

“Fuck, Wes.”

“Bed,” Wes said against his skin. “Now.”

They stumbled backward, Jake pulling Wes down on top of him. The weight of him was perfect—solid and warm and right. Wes settled between Jake’s legs, both still in jeans but grinding together, and Jake could feel how hard Wes was, how much he wanted this.

“Off,” Jake panted, tugging at Wes’s belt. “Get these off.”

They broke apart long enough to shed the rest of their clothes, clumsy and laughing when Wes’s jeans got stuck on his boots.

“Smooth,” Jake teased.

“Shut up and get naked.”

Jake did, and then they were skin to skin, nothing between them. Wes made a sound low in his throat, pressing Jake back into the mattress.

“God, look at you,” Wes breathed, hands roaming everywhere—ribs, hips, thighs. “You’re so?—”