Page 7 of Inceptive (Ingenious #3)
7
ZACH
Z ach stood in the cold rain, thoroughly scrubbing his body, while Will bathed inside using a basin filled with hot water from the reservoir. He’d excused Will from watching his back, telling him that predators slept in their nests and dens on nights like this, and Zach wasn’t a featherweight to be knocked off the walkway by a gust. He endured standing under the eave and rinsing until he was shriveled and at no risk of throwing wood. Because that’s why he didn’t take a basin bath. Will made sex sounds when dribbling hot water over his body, and the harder Zach tried to dismiss the images stirred by the sounds, the harder his cock strained until thumps and pinches didn’t soften it.
He dried off and dressed in his nightshirt before tapping on the door and asking if Will had finished.
“Come in, but cover your eyes. Because we wouldn’t want to give anyone the impression you’d seen and lusted after my filthy man parts.”
Zach covered his eyes but couldn’t stop himself from spreading his fingers and staring toward the stove. His back to the door, Will toweled dry. Wide shoulders and toned back muscles tapered to a narrow waist and dimples above the curve of his ass. Oh, blast it all. Was ever a man as pretty, yet undeniably a man? His feet arched gracefully, the toenails straight and clean. He wasn’t bulked up with a sturdy neck and flat shoulders like a farmer.
The past year, women had behaved bolder around Zach, often lifting their skirts to the knees as they crossed puddles. He’d glanced but found no pleasure. Where was the instant arousal that Riley had described? Instead of spiking his curiosity, the persistent flirting annoyed Zach. He’d made it clear marriage must wait until after he was twenty-five.
Until Will, arousal happened in the morning, and he went fishing once a week. Until Will, his drawstring pants never tented. Until Will, he didn’t need to wear baggy overalls in the cabin. He didn’t care if he stank or what the men thought of his package. He’d bathed tonight because Will criticized his ripe odor.
Will’s company had awakened an uncomfortable emotion in Zach that was less temptation and more—the only way to describe it was satisfaction. Being too big, too committed, too lonely—Zach had found little satisfaction with his life. He’d lived with a heaviness in his heart. Will’s company had lifted the burden. If Will were a woman, Zach would court him and look his fill if Will lifted his skirts at a puddle.
“I’m decent. You can look now.”
Zach dropped his hands and saw Will frowning at his face. “What?”
“Your ears are red.”
“It’s cold outside,” he lied.
“I’ll brew some tea and warm you up.” Will buttoned his nightshirt. “Use the basin to wash next time. I won’t ogle you. Sheesh.” As the tea steeped, he placed a saucer of sap on the top of the ladder for Belle. “I wonder how many eggs she’ll lay.”
“A dozen. All talking. All ornery as their mama.” His body warmed at Will’s silvery laugh.
They sipped night tea and whispered about the future babies—how Belle would feed them, how she would teach them to talk and fly. How he and Will wouldn’t say bad words when the babies left gifts all over the cabin.
The tea kicked in, and Zach yawned, turning down the battery lantern to conserve heat for the stove. They were comfortable with the hammock between them on the sleeping mat. Will tugged for a share of the quilt and fur throw, complaining that Zach threw off heat like a lantern and needed to give him the bigger share of the throw.