Finally, at me.
With that one look I swear he knows about my dreams, the ones where he bucked beneath me, the ones that left my sheets soiled this morning. He must know I watched him last night, watched Rudy loving him—he has to know I’m hard already this early in the morning and it’s all because of him. Damn.
There’s that sunny grin, that bubbly laugh, and he folds the paper back up as he tucks it under one muscled arm. “Hey,” he calls out, starting toward me.
I almost choke on my coffee. I can see the way he fills out those boxers, the way his genitals swing beneath the fabric as he walks, and anything I might possibly say is gone. Leaning on my fence, he crosses his arms and rests his chin on his wrist as he looks at me with large eyes as blue as the sky above and gives me another sm
