Ryan had been deeply aware of the energy and heat Boon’s body transmitted to him as they’d walked through the house. In his bedroom, his c**k had threatened to stand up and point when he saw Boon’s sturdy figure standing between his bed and the windows. He’d have liked nothing better than to lure him naked to his bed, to touch and stroke him into passion. To f**k him on top of, under, and between the covers.
Hell. Chances are he’s straight. I have to stop thinking like this or my pants will be bulging when he turns around. How many tattoos does the man have? And why? Ryan focused on the permanent body art, something he really didn’t understand. In his father’s day, it was the province of dock workers, truck drivers, and sailors. Not anymore, it seemed. He’d always found it a little distas
