I bet all that glorious stubble will scratch and rasp and scrawl on my body as that mouth explores my neck and—
“…are you even listening to me?” Jonas asks.
I tear my gaze away from the golden god in front of me. “Uh, no, sorry.” I accept the mug from Isak, and he joins me on the couch, takes a sip of his coffee, lets out a breathy moan, leans back with eyes closed and a pleased smile. I can’t look away as he takes another sip, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and hums.
Gulp. I had no idea drinking coffee could be this pornographic.
“Petter? What the hell’s going on?”
Again, I look away from Isak, trying to focus on my call, or Jonas will freak out. “Sorry. I was distracted. Listen, I twisted my ankle but I’m fine now. There was a guy, his name is Isak, who saw me when I went by his house on
