Page 87 of Jackrabbit

"Fine," Colt whispered against his mouth. "But I'm taking the cat.”

Then he slid off of Beau’s lap, turned to where Toast was watching them from his hammock, and made a ‘pst pst’ noise. Toast hopped down and went right up to Colt, stretched his whole body up Colt’s leg, and let himself be hoisted over Colt’s shoulder. Beau’s own cat watched him as Colt carried him away, eyes sleepy and half-lidded, right until Colt slipped into the guest room and shut the door.

***

Beau sat behind his desk and stared at the same sentence he'd been reading for the past ten minutes. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and leaned back in his chair. Glanced at the clock. 6:45. He'd dropped Colt off at his apartment an hour ago, sleepy and mussed and still wearing Beau's clothes. Colt had curled into the passenger seat, feet tucked under him, head tipped against the window, and Toast had cried at the door when they'd left.

Four months.

Four months of this—whatever this was—and then Colt would be gone. Off to Charlotte, to Liberty, to the career he'd been building toward his whole life.

The shop door opened. Beau glanced up and immediately forgot what he'd been thinking about.

Colt stood in the doorway, backlit by early morning sun, wearing jeans that sat so low on his hips they had to be a choice. Had to be deliberate. His shirt—some band Beau didn't recognize—was fitted enough to show every lineof his torso and short enough that when he reached up to adjust his bag strap, Beau got a flash of flat stomach and the sharp cut of his Adonis belt.

And just above the waistband of those criminally low jeans: a hint of lace. Fire engine red lace.

Little shit. The whole outfit had been chosen just for him. Gorgeous boy. One he knew the taste and feel and smell of now.

Colt caught him looking and grinned, all dimples and innocence as he came to stand in Beau’s doorway. "Morning, Coach."

“Put your coveralls on, Colt.”

“Why?” Colt hooked his finger in one of his belt loops and pulled the front of his jeans down enough for Beau to get a real good look at what was under them. “Got a problem with what I'm wearing?”

Beau didn't shift in his chair, but it was a near thing. “We said not at work. You breaking the rules on day one?”

“What rule am I breaking, exactly?” Those jeans slipped lower, and Beau’s mouth went dry.

“You're trying to tease me and you know it, you little brat.”

“Well, you're teasingmewith those slutty little glasses, and you don't see me getting on you for it.” Colt crossed one leg over the other and moved his thumb to the red waistband.

“My—” Beau’s cheeks flushed with heat. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Colt purred. He stepped further into the office and shut the door. “The fantasies I've had about those glasses, Beau.”

Beau didn't want to hear what those fantasies were.

Liar.

Colt came right to the edge of Beau’s desk anddropped to his knees.“Like this, mostly. You with whiskey and those daddy glasses watching me…work for it.”

Beau wanted to find a way to shut that pretty mouth just as much as he wanted to make sure it never stopped. And now he could. Now he had everyright to fuck Colt’s face until he cried. Colt would like it, beg for it, would be so good—

And was playing Beau like a fool.

Beau stood and didn't bother to hide that he was hard. Green eyes fixed on his crotch immediately, and Colt licked his bottom lip.

Soft curls wrapped around his fingers as Beau gripped Colt's hair by the root and tugged his head back. “You're trying real hard to get yourself in trouble, boy.”

Pink crept out from Colt's collar and up his throat, and he grinned. “Is it working?”

“Get up. Put your coveralls on.” Beau gave Colt’s hair one more pull just to hear him gasp, then let go and walked back to his desk. “Get to work before I give you a real punishment.”

“Promises, promises.” Colt got up anyway, dragging his eyes down Beau's whole body before he walked to the office door. He paused with his hand on the handle. “If you need a hand—”

“Boy,” Beau growled.