Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“You haven’t told him about me,” Jack interjected. It wasn’t a question.
Will felt his face warm as excuses bubbled in his mind. Again he decided on the truth. “No. I haven’t. I haven’t told anyone.” As Jack started to bristle, Will hurried on. “Not because I’m embarrassed or anything like that. No, the opposite is true. What we have, whatever it is that’s developing between us, I don’t want to share it. Not yet. It’s so new, so fragile. What happened between us today is proof of that, I suppose. And what happened yesterday morning. I mean, the way you practically ran out of my house, after such an amazing night.”
It was Jack’s turn to color. Will waited a beat for him to offer his excuse, but he kept quiet, so Will continued. “I think you left because you’re scared, same as me. We both want what’s happening, but it matters almost too much. Neither of us knows quite what to do with it. You because you’re still struggling with your sexual identity. Me because I’ve never fallen for someone so hard.”
Jack looked up at him, his expression naked and vulnerable for the first time since he’d practically run away the morning before. “Are you saying…you’re falling for me?”
“Yes,” Will whispered. “Yes, I think I am.”
Chapter 12
“So this is where the master creates,” Will said, turning slowly. The room was large and airy, with big windows on two sides through which the sunlight streamed. In one corner of the room piles of wood were neatly stacked by size and type. Sawhorses, various electric saws, lathes and other equipment Will didn’t have a name for filled the room. There were shelves filled with bottles of glue and lacquer, cans of paint, trays of nails and screws, sanders and various tools of the trade, all neatly arranged. One corner of the room had been set up as a kind of sitting area, with a low, comfortable couch and an overloaded desk that held a computer and stacks of papers and magazines. Will recognized the onion paper Jack used for blueprints, a blue pen and a pencil resting atop it.
The floor was hardwood, curlicues of sawdust lying here and there. The place smelled of varnish and wood shavings. It was a comfortable, even inviting smell. Will realized it was part of the scent on Jack’s shirt when he’d held it to his face—a part of his essence.
“This is my workshop,” Jack said, the pride evident in his voice. “I added this room on to the house about ten years ago. Before that I worked in the basement. This is much better. I can actually see what I’m doing. It even has its own door out to the driveway so I can bring in wood and equipment without having to traipse through the house.” He pointed toward the door beside one of the windows. A framed cross-stitch with the words, “Jack’s Workshop” hung over it.
Jack smiled as he watched Will take in his surroundings. Jack’s whole demeanor was more relaxed now that he was on his own turf. Will walked toward the desk and touched the blueprint spread over the papers. “What’re you working on now?”
“I just finished a rocking chair that I’m going to give to my sister for her birthday. It’s out back so the varnish can dry. I’m going to start on a desk next, actually. To replace this one. I’ve never made a desk before, so it’ll be something of a challenge.”
Jack had followed him to the sitting area. Will could feel his presence, hear his voice rumbling close behind him. He turned around and Jack stepped back a little. Will felt vulnerable and needy—feelings alien to him until he’d met this unusual, deeply sensual man.
Silently he willed Jack not to reject his overture. He almost sighed with relief as Jack stepped into his embrace. They held each other a moment, then, of one accord, they leaned in for a kiss.
Will had meant to take his time, to ease his way back into Jack’s good graces, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Since Saturday morning when they’d parted, his body had ached for Jack. He’d considered calling Paul or another of his casual play partners for a little meaningless sex, just to take the edge off his need.
Though it was completely out of character, at least for the man he used to be before Jack had entered his world, he’d decided not to. He would wait for Jack. He hadn’t even masturbated, clinging to a quaint and rather ridiculous idea of saving himself for his new lover.
Now his lust spilled over. He maneuvered Jack toward the couch, pulling him down as they continued to kiss. Jack, like himself, was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Will pressed his hands against Jack’s strong chest and slipped them beneath the shirt, pushing upward. Jesus, he wanted this man, more than he’d ever wanted another person.