Page 74 of Checking Out the Librarian

In a few moments, they’d be indoors and he’d be able to see Connor’s face, but by now he knew what this man sounded like when he was happy. He pictured a smile that stretched broadly enough that his teeth gleamed in the dark and his dimple showed.

“Not a substitute for lube,” he whispered back.

Connor groaned. “Walk faster, you silly dog.”

17

A SPORT WITHOUT BALLS

“I know this isn’t the moment.” Connor hadn’t expected Jonathan would choose a demanding physical activity the day after Pride parade-induced exhaustion, but here they were, the two of them bicycling a country lane on Sunday afternoon.

It should be lovely.

He should be enjoying the fresh air and sunshine.

He should be able to feel his ass.

Connor couldn’t believe how good it felt to stop and plant two feet firmly on the ground, with absolutely nothing touching his butt. Nothing. He would not take sitting down on something that was wide enough to cradle his entire buttocks for granted ever again.

That rickety desk chair in his classroom? Best friend. Jonathan? Not best friend. Maybe not even friend.

“I have something I need to say.”

From ten feet in front of him, the villain who had claimed this activity called “cycling” would be fun looked over his shoulder at Connor with that sly half-smile that employed more eyebrows than teeth and usually made Connor want to mash his body into a wall.

Not today, Satan.

“What is it that you need to whine about now, Connor?”

“I don’t think you’re getting this ass tonight.”

Jonathan burst into laughter and raised his hand to his chest. In honor of Pride, he’d painted his short nails alternating colors of the rainbow, and Connor liked how they looked against his tightly fitted red and white cycling jersey. “I’m heartbroken.”

“You don’t have to act like you don’t care.” He stuck a finger under the edge of his helmet to scratch. Sweat made his scalp itchy.

“I figured you had more than twenty miles in that tank, but I was so, so wrong.”

“It was twenty-four. And I’ve got plenty in the tank.” He went to palm his cock, but his hand froze without contact because, yeah, his balls hurt too. And he didn’t want to investigate that.

Jonathan snickered. “But not enough in the trunk?”

“Too much in the trunk? Why Isn’t my butt helping me?” This was not like the seat on his rowing machine, and also, he’d been on it for a lot longer.

“Nope, it’s about conditioning. My ass is toned. My ass is, in fact, like stone.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, you’re wearing padded shorts and I’m not, so at this moment your ass is actually more padded than mine.”

“Blaming your gear, for shame.” Jonathan unsnapped his helmet and removed it, shaking his hair, and then peeled off a cycling glove. Normally, dark waves of hair fanned around Jonathan’s face, but after cycling, they clung to the sides of his head.

Connor watched him spike fingers through the damp hair at his temple and lift, letting strands sift through. The sweat on his forehead glowed. His lips parted as he breathed, and he looked almost as wrung out as when they collapsed in bed, but without the beard burn and pinkened lips.

Connor was tired, sweaty, and sore, but he watched. He watched.

“There is a beautiful patio at the end of this drive. They serve wine and what normal-sized people describe as hearty appetizers. And since it’s gravel, I’ll allow us to walk these machines up the hill.”

“Walking,” Connor groaned, less at the idea of walking than at the idea of the hill. “I think I remember that.”

“First you have to swing your leg out from across the bike.” And Jonathan demonstrated by lifting his leg high, almost a kick, and rotating his hips so damn fluidly Connor once again wondered why they weren’t lounging at home in bed.