Page 32 of Jackrabbit

Colt was already hightailing it to the garage door by the time Beau threw the empty water bottle at his back.

***

The sponsor offers trickled in as Colt’s social media grew.

First a small company offering pop culture workout gear, and then a clean energy drink company called Dead Wake next. Four weeks after Colt’s first progress picture, he was standing at Beau's desk signing papers. He set the pen down, dazed, and looked up to find Beau watching him with those warm honey eyes. Swallowing, Colt looked back at the papers with his sloppy signature drying on them in black ink.

“Beau.”

“Yeah, boy, I know.”

“I can race,” Colt whispered.

Beau's lips quirked. “Course you can.”

Colt threw his arms around Beau's neck and hugged him tight, then danced away before the other man could decide what to do with him. He stormed out into the garage, ignoring Liam cussing as he dropped a quart of oil, and let the others know. They whipped him with shop towels and ruffled his hair, and Colt felt full.

At the gym that same night, Colt’s mind was already where it shouldn’t be. He’d been replaying the way Beau’s body had felt against his during their hug the entire day. Hard and warm and big—God, Beau was big. And Colt needed to go out and get laid before he jumped his coach in the broom closet and got his ass kicked in a not-so-fun way. Jesus.

But at the moment, it was too late. He was destination fucked.

There was a leather harness strapped to his head with several weights hanging down from it, which was just about the most unsexy thing he could imagine, actually, except Beau had him on his fuckingknees.

Colt wanted to die.

Colt wanted to do a lot of other things, too, mostly involving his mouth and his traitorous dick. Beau stood behind him and braced a hand on his shoulder to correct his posture, and Colt straightened. Speaking of his dick, if it would just stand down for a little longer, that would be great.

“There.” Beau’s voice was doing that thing where it went low and deep, and Colt let out an unsteady breath. “Good. Just like that, boy.”

Except Beau chose that moment to come around front, and Colt wasn't supposed to move his head. Gray sweats were a torture device, he was pretty sure. Beau's thighs were huge, and Colt was very very sure to focus on that and absolutely nothing else because the alternative was worse. So much worse.

Watch the quads. Not—

Beau pressed his hand against Colt’s chest, and Colt was absolutely positive he could feel Colt's heart threatening to quit on him. “Good. Okay. Let's get this off and we can take a break.”

“Thank fuck,” Colt hissed out loud.

“You need a longer break?” Beau asked as he leaned forward and pulled the weights up with one hand.

“No.” His head felt briefly so light it was like it was going to float off his neck when Beau took the harness off. Muscles protested as Colt gently rolled his shoulders. “Just need the bathroom. I'll be right back.”

He ran off before Beau could respond and locked himself in a stall in the shitty bathroom that reeked of chlorine. Leaning against the filthy, graffiti-covered wall, Colt pressed his palm against himself through his sweats.

This was becoming a problem.

It had been hot every time Beau had praised him. He'd come to terms with the fact that he might have A Thing. But it was getting worse. More difficult to contain himself, more difficult to stop his stupid ass mind from wandering where it shouldn't. They spent literally every day together. How was he supposed to survive this with his dignity intact?

He gave himself thirty seconds to get his shit together before he tucked his way-too-enthusiastic dick under his waistband and went to splash water on his face. It was hot as hell outside, so it took for-freaking-ever for the water to cool off. On a bonus note, he burned his hand on the water straight out of the pipes and the pain took care of his problem downstairs.

By the time he got back to Beau, he had himself under control.

“You good?” Beau asked. Colt nodded, and Beau pointed to the treadmill. “Three miles.”

Sighing, Colt trudged over and hopped on. God, he hated cardio. Beau always ran with him, though, and he did kind of like the sound of their feet hitting the belt together. The way Beau’s breathing remained mostly controlled except for the occasional puff or grunt when his leg bothered him.

“Wanted to talk to you about something,” Beau said as they started warming up.

For one wild second, Colt was dead certain that Beau had figured him out. That he was about to call Colt out for his inappropriate arousal, for the way Beau’s voice made him melt in all sorts of ways. But, he realized as he heard how calm Beau was, he didn't think that was a conversation they'd have on a treadmill.