Page 18 of Returning Your Love
Fuuuck.
My balls drew up tight, taking me to the edge of nutting in my shorts without a single caress. It’d been too long since someone else had physically inspired me to come. Last time ithad happened with another in close proximity had been back in the spring while attempting to make a baby with my wife.
And I’d been thinking about Jamie then too.
Fucking cheater.
While not unfaithful in the flesh, I’d sure as fuck crossed that line in my head. Wasn’t fantasizing the same as committing the crime? Maybe not in court but definitely in a woman’s mind if she ever found out.
Guilt swamped in like a stinking bog, black and ugly as fuck.
Dick going limp in a flash made rolling away from my best friend easy.
Jamie didn’t move as I unzipped the screened opening of our tent and slipped outside into the cooler morning air. Still, no breeze rustled leaves, the reason the heat had stayed trapped inside the tent with us.
I filled my lungs, stretching my neck side-to-side and forcing thoughts of Shelly and how badly I wanted intimacy with Jamie rather than her from my mind. Talk about a rock and a hard place.
But what choice did I have?
I’d vowed?—
Shutting down the usual bullshit once more attempting to take over my mind, I set about making coffee. Coach Bernard had an electric box set alongside the cement pad he used to keep his old pop-up camper on. A new trailer was hitched to his truck and followed along southwestward—probably deep into Texas by now.
Jamie and I had lifted the picnic table onto the platform, so while he continued to sleep, I set to spoiling my best friend rotten. The coffeepot brewed and griddle sizzled on one side with still-chewy bacon, just the way he used to like it, and the other was readied for his favorite cheesy scrambled eggs.
He’d provided last night’s dinner, the beer, and the water since Coach didn’t have a well on-site, so I’d brought along the makings for breakfast. Lunch, we hoped to fry up some fresh-caught fish, but we didn’t have any luck the day before.
“Fuck, that smells amazing.”
I grinned, my focus on cracking eggs into a bowl as Jamie shuffled up alongside me as though asleep on his feet. He’d never been a morning person, and it warmed me to find something about him completely unchanged.
He grabbed bacon right off the griddle, cursing as he juggled it.
“Idiot,” I mumbled, and he chuckled before scarfing the piece down.
“Mmm,” he moaned, the sound deep in his chest.
Teeth clenched against my unsatisfied dick’s wish to swell, I whisked the eggs a little too hard.
“Careful,” he teased with a low rasp while pouring himself a cup of coffee. “We only have that one dozen.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, tossing in a handful of shredded cheese before pouring the mixture onto the bacon-greased griddle.
Jamie sipped and moved in close to look over my shoulder when he easily could have just checked out my work from my side.
Spatula in hand, I tensed as his chest brushed my back, his chin settling onto my shoulder for a brief second.
“Smells good,” he murmured, his sleepy, rumbling voice so goddamn close to my ear that shivers raced over my skin, causing goose bumps to riddle my arms and neck.
Shifting to my left rid me of his touch, and I crouched to pull a container of OJ out of the cooler. “Want to grab some plates and forks? Won’t be but another minute for these eggs to finish.”
Jamie did as suggested, and we kept silent when sitting to eat. We chowed down like we had as growing teens out in the wild, the fresh air intensifying our appetites. Food completely wiped out, we sat in our lawn chairs with another cup of coffee each while Jamie’s brain came back online and we made a plan for the day.
Fishing in the canoe I’d brought along, swimming once the heat of the day got to be too much, then napping in the shade of the huge oak alongside the water’s edge.
Sounded like perfection to me, especially considering my company and the lack of a nagging wife up in my business.
Jamie seemed relaxed and totally chill, so he’d definitely been passed out when I’d been on the verge of humping his leg with my morning wood. Either that, or he hadn’t minded one bit?—
