Not even a hand in his hair helped Ian to secure Jordan’s mouth. Jordan had an uncanny ability to know when Ian was leaning in for a kiss. He shouldn’t have let it bother him, not with Jordan stretched out beside him, naked as the day he’d been born, both bodies straining for more attention. Yet as sweet as the traces of soap on Jordan’s body tasted, as savory the salt in Jordan’s sweat, Ian ached to taste Jordan’s mouth: lips, tongue, teeth, any of it. All of it.
“Quit it,” Jordan mumbled. “Why do you always do that?”
“People kiss,” Ian grumbled back. Jordan pulled his leg over Ian’s thigh, pushing Ian back and straddling Ian’s lap and Ian fought away a groan to continue speaking. “I just don’t get why you won’t let me kiss you. Why do you make this process so difficult?”
Jordan ignore
