“Okay.” Jory kisses Peter tenderly, savoring the feel of soft lips beneath his. “How are you?”
“Fine.” Peter sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. “A little sick to the stomach, that’s it. Did anyone ask about me?”
“Bruce,” Jory says, pulling off his sweater. “I told him you were doing fine.”
Peter watches Jory slip out of his jeans. “Come here, my sexy man,” he whispers, tugging at the waistband of Jory’s boxers.
Jory laughs and falls to the bed as Peter rolls on top of him, the comforting weight of his body pushing Jory into the mattress. Kissing Jory’s neck with a familiar hunger, Pete whispers, “I love you. Have I told you that today?”
“Just now.” Jory snickers at the feel of hot breath tickling over his collar bone and pulls Peter closer. His fingers thread through Peter’s hair,
