Page 119 of Jackrabbit

Chapter 50

Eight Days Until Charlotte

Every part of Colt’s body ached—from his head to his toes, he was one big, aching mess. He was running himself hard, but what choice did he have? This was his shot.

He watched the coffee finish dripping and rubbed his heavy eyes. Even Toast wouldn't get out of bed with him at three fifteen in the morning. The cat had watched him from his spot at the top of Beau’s pillow like he was crazy as he'd slipped out of the covers and left the room.

Maybe he was.

Felt like it, a little, the way the days were blurring together, the way every ache bled into the next, the way he was basicallyliving with Beauright now and too tired to enjoy it. All he could think about was the test next week. His mind was spinning at all times.

Hands slid onto his hips, and Beau stepped up behind him with a sleepy yawn. Damn, Colt was out of it if he hadn't heard Beau’s heavy footfalls.

He leaned back into Beau's warmth, and Beau nuzzled into his neck. “What are you doing up?”

“You annoyed Toast. Tail was flickin’ me in the face,” Beau mumbled in that sleep-thick accent that made Colt’s knees weak. One of his thumbs traced circles on Colt’s hip bone. “Come back to bed.”

“Can't.” And what a goddamn shame, considering he could feel Beau, half-hard and thick, against his lower back. “I haveto—”

“You have to get your pretty ass into the bathroom.” Beau kissed the spot right behind Colt’s ear, and the heat from it slipped down Colt’s spine. “Get yourself nice ‘n clean for me.” One hand slid up under his shirt and cupped his pec as Beau licked the shell of his ear. “And let me take care of you.”

“Beau, I have to—”

The hand on his chest moved to his throat, dragging his shirt up with it. Beau’s grip wasn't hard, but it was firm, and he used it to push Colt’s head back.

“Did I ask?” Beau whispered against his ear, low and rough, and fucking hell. “Answer me.”

Colt whined, breathy and needy. Pathetic. He didn’t give one flying fuck. “No. No, sir.”

Beau's grip tightened, and he rolled his hips, dragged himself against Colt's back.

“That's right.” Using the hand still on Colt's hip, Beau pulled until his ass was against Beau’s cock. Beau ground against him, slow and hard. “So when I tell you to get in that shower, what do you do?”

“I—” Shit. It was hard to talk. Why was it hard to talk? Colt’s ears were hot. “I get in the shower.”

“Mhmm.” Beau nipped his earlobe. “And then what?”

“And I get myself clean. For you.” He pushed back into the pressure, and Beau petted his throat. “And—um. Let you take care of me.”

“There's my good boy.” Stubble scratched across the back of his neck as Beau dragged his chin over it. Then he let go, ignoring Colt’s sound of protest. “Now, go on. Hurry up. Come back to bed when you're done.”

There wasn't even a flicker of thought about disobeying. Not one second before Colt was scurrying down the hall, tripping over his shoes as he kicked them off on his way to Beau’s room. He found the supplies he needed already laid out for him and snatched them up before hopping into the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, clean inside and out, Colt slipped on one of Beau’s shirts from the closet and padded into the bedroom. Where he found Beau ina pair of gray sweatpants, shirtless and sexy like something right out of Colt’s filthy fantasies. Hisass—good God.

Beau turned, and Colt’s gaze fixed on his crotch, where he could see the outline of Beau's—

“C'mere.” Beau set down a bottle of lube—lubeholy shit yes please—and watched as Colt approached. He gripped Colt’s hip with one hand and pushed Colt’s wet hair off his forehead with the other. Then he pulled Colt into a kiss with a hand at the back of his neck. He fisted the shirt at Colt's waist and pushed it up, exposing Colt's thigh. He slipped his tongue into Colt's mouth, and Colt made a low sound at the taste of him.

Colt loved the way Beau kissed—heat and rough stubble, all his attention on Colt like he wanted to devour him whole. And Colt would let him. Might even beg for it, and maybe that was fucked up, but Beau overwhelmed Colt in the most delicious way. He wanted to drown in him.

Too soon, Beau broke the kiss and bodily turned Colt toward the bed, pushing until his knees hit the side of the mattress. He nudged the backs of Colt’s knees and shoved him down with a hand between his shoulder blades, and Colt groaned. Pressed his forehead into the comforter and arched his back, making the shirt slide halfway up his ass.

“Pretty thing,” Beau sighed as he stepped closer and ran one hand up Colt’s inner thigh. He kept going, callouses scratching against the sensitive skin where ass met thigh, and gripped the hem of the shirt. “Like you in my clothes.”

“That's good.” Colt pressed back into Beau's hand, smirking at the bedding. “Because I've stolen, like, five of your shirts.”

Beau swatted him on the back of the thigh, and Colt gasped. Shit. That was hot. Why was that hot?