Page 6 of A Season Of Sin

I pat my tiny pecs compared to his. “I don’t think I’ll be bulking up like you anytime soon.”

He smirks. “You shouldn’t. Lean looks good on you.”

There he goes again with the compliments. I’m not used to compliments. I don’t know how to read them.

Jace doesn’t seem to care that I don’t reply when he pulls two meal-prepped containers from the fridge, pops them into the microwave, and keeps talking. “Gracie should be home in a few hours. She’s volunteering at the local women’s shelter today.”

I tap my fingertips on the counter to keep my hands busy. “When do you work?”

“I’m off for the next two and a half days. I work twenty-four-hour shifts, sometimes a day and a half if someone needs me to work over, and then I have three days off. How about you?”

“You know I can’t discuss club business.” Not that there’s much to share. They call. I ride. Or, in this case, drive. It could be today, tomorrow, or two weeks from now. I never know.

“I get it, but you can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” Jace winks and sets a reheated meal in front of me, along with a fork. It’s chicken, rice, and broccoli, a far cry from the can of chili I ate last night.

“Thanks.” Sliding my food across the island, I claim a stool on the opposite side. Jace joins me, choosing to sit his massive body on the seat beside me. Our legs touch, and I shiver.

My cock takes notice, too, as Jace’s fresh, clean scent hits my nose from a shower he must have taken when he got home from the gym. I go from kinda hard to full-on stiffy as I attempt to eat my lunch and not pay attention to him, which is damn near impossible. He makes noises of the sexual variety when he eats, and his leg bounces so it rubs mine.

Listen, let’s talk about the rainbow elephant in the room. I’m not gay. I’m not even sure what I am. Labels mean fuck-all to me, but I’ve fooled around with a few men. Submissive men. All of them happened to be petite twink-type guys. While that didn’t do it for me, as I prefer my partners thicker, both men and women, I made do with what I had at the time. It’s been at least fifteen years since I’ve fooled around with anything with a cock. Hell, up until today, I wasn’t sure I was even attracted to them anymore. I usually go for women. Plus-size women. Women with thick asses and big tits, and curves everywhere. You got a round tummy? I wanna come all over it. Do your ass and thighs jiggle when you walk? Sign me the fuck up. There’s nothing wrong with thin women. I love all women, their softness, their scents, and their sweet, breathy moans. But this wolf prefers a lot of meat on the bones. Even in school, I used to get made fun of for bein’ the scrawny stereotype who loved big girls. These muscles came later, once I learned about protein and nutrition, and started lifting.

Once we finish our meals in companionable silence, Jace collects the containers, rinses them in the sink, and stacks them in the dishwasher. Grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, he hands me one and asks, “You wanna watch a movie?”

“What kinda movie?” I eye him suspiciously, knowin’ I’m a picky fuck when it comes to anything I watch.

Cracking open his bottle, Jace chugs half the contents before he speaks, and I watch his thick throat move, hypnotized. “I’ve been in the mood for some John Wick. You wanna marathon it?”

“I’ve only seen the first one,” I admit, and Jace cringes.

“Your man card has been revoked,” he announces as he play punches me in the shoulder.

I snort. “Can I have it back once we watch them? How many are there, anyhow?”

“Four.”

Damn. That’s more than I thought.

“We’re watching four movies today?”

“Do you have anything better to do when it’s storming outside and neither of us has to work?”

“No.” I shrug and crack open my water. “I guess not.”

“You want more coffee first?” He gestures to the fridge.

“Is that even a question?”

Laughing light and carefree, Jace rounds the island, pulls out a glass, fills it halfway with ice from the fridge door, pours cold brew from a carafe inside the fridge into the cup along with a splash of cream, and finishes it with a thick drizzle of caramel around the edge.

I lick my lips, watching him the entire time. I’m not sure if it’s the coffee that’s got me salivating or someone making me coffee just the way I like.

When he hands me the drink of the gods, our eyes meet for half a beat too long, and something sparks there. I feel it in my gut, low and hot. Swallowing thickly, I look away so he doesn’t think anything of it. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for ages. That’s all this has ever been and will ever be. He’s also married. Very married. Very. Very. Very married.

Berating myself for bein’ an idiot, I follow Jace to the edge of the living room, where I toe off my boots before I step onto the fluffy gray carpet. A sectional curves around a fireplace with a television mounted above. He turns on the flames as I take a seat, and once he’s got the remotes, Jace sits right down next to me. Right next. As in, too fuckin’ close, given the massive size of this couch. He pulls a coaster out of a holder on the coffee table and nods toward it. “You can use that. Gracie hates water stains on the furniture.”

I hum and set my glass where it belongs, and my water bottle beside it on another coaster I pull from the stack.

Within seconds, John Wick flares to life, and we immerse ourselves in the badassery of all that is Keanu Reeves. Movie one flows into two, and the fact that Jace is sitting beside me doesn’t matter anymore as we comment and laugh. I couldn’t tell you the last time I watched a movie with someone, let alone had this much fun doing it.