Page 48 of The Long Game

Jack was hard, too.

Fucking hell.

Grady gritted his teeth while his cock tried to rise up and salute his new friend.

Jack’s arm tightened across his chest. “We have to be at Rupert and Callum’s soon.”

Grady blinked at the ceiling. “What time?”

“Ten,” Jack murmured while rubbing his nose on Grady’s t-shirt.

He was nuzzling him. Jack fucking Chevalier wasnuzzlingGrady’s chest while they both pretended they didn’t have erections.

Grady really didn’t know what to think. To say this was outside his experience was an understatement too vast to comprehend. He’d fucked and been fucked. He’d hooked up plenty. He liked to think he was creative and open-minded when it came to trying all things.

But damned if he had any fucking idea whatnuzzling with hard-onsmeant.

Except that maybe—okay, definitely—it was time to have a conversation with Jack. The hand-holding could be rationalized through context. Or, at least, that was what he’d been telling himself. And the sleeping together, too, though maybe that was more of a stretch.

But this…

Grady took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He had a long-lost cousin who needed his help. A brother he was desperate to contact and support any way he could. Maybe other family that needed him, too. His entire life was in upheaval and this—being able to hold on to Jack, lean into Jack, sleep knowing he was right there with him, safe and warm and sweet?

This was the good stuff.

And even ignoring the iron bar currently laid across Grady’s hip, Jack seemed content with the strange new twists to their friendship, and to be deriving at least some of the same peace and strength from it that Grady did.

That couldn’t be bad.

A conversation was still in order, but as long as Jack was happy, Grady was, too.

They barely madeit to brunch on time. Stepping off the elevator, they were greeted by a wildly grinning Callum leaning in the open door to his apartment. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Jack eyed his friend suspiciously. “Callum.”

“Good morning,” Grady said, shaking Callum’s hand and entering his home. He may not have visited as often as Jack, but he was always welcome. He’d been instrumental in bringing Christian home, and no one was ever going to forget that, as evidenced by the enthusiastic greeting from the rest of the family.

Jack was about to follow Grady inside when Callum pulled him into a tight hug.

Jack blinked and stared at Grady’s retreating back over Callum’s shoulder, his arms pinned to his sides. Yes, Callum was one of his closest friends, but this wasn’t how they rolled. Granted, Jack had changed a bunch of his rules around touching when it came to Grady, but he didn’t think it was supposed to be contagious. And anyway, how the hell would Callum know?

“How are you doing?” Callum asked in a low, concerned voice.

Jack wondered if Callum knew something he didn’t. Had someone died? Been hurt?

“You’re being weird,” Jack observed, though he discovered he didn’t actually want to discourage this kind of weirdness.

Callum squeezed him tighter.

“And I’m fine?” Jack added, hugging Callum back as best he could.

Callum let go and held him at arm’s length, searching his face. “You sure?”

Jack was so confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Callum opened his mouth, paused, seemed to reconsider whatever he was going to say, and patted Jack on the shoulder. “Good, good,” he said heartily and led Jack inside.

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