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Chapter 8-2
Morning arrived sooner than he’d hoped and his eyes fluttered open, only to find an arm flung across his chest. Lance’s arm. A quick glance told him Lance was still asleep. He lay on his belly, facing Wade, his sleep-rumpled hair falling across his forehead. Wade drank him in, watching him take shallow, quiet breaths. The comforter had slipped down as they’d slept, draping across Lance’s ass, and leaving his back unprotected. Wade clenched his hands to keep from trailing his fingers down his muscular back, wanting to memorize every dip and plane. But he let his gaze travel over his shoulders, his neck, and to his face. He’d always admired Lance’s strong, high cheekbones, and seeing them up close like this was torment. Wade’s gaze drifted to his full, long eyelashes. Beautiful. He sighed,
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