Operation Fake Relationship - Jay Northcote Page 0,35
glow in Jackson’s chest. “We’re obviously made for each other.”
Jackson deflated as he remembered Nick was putting on an act for his family.
But he wasn’t acting in the treehouse earlier.
Although that thought was reassuring on some levels, it didn’t fill the aching gap in Jackson’s heart.
They did win the game, as predicted. But in a second round, Maria and Adrian managed to claw their way to victory.
“Right. I’m afraid that’s it for me,” Maria said. “I need to get off to bed, because no doubt Seth will wake us up at the crack of dawn again.”
“Yes, me too.” Adrian yawned.
Sue and Reg went up to bed too, leaving Jackson, Nick, and Pete in front of the TV again. Nick snuggled up to Jackson, fitting himself under his arm and tucking his feet up. It felt so easy and natural, as if they sat like this every night.
Despite their relaxed position, Jackson was feeling increasingly jittery about the prospect of going to bed. What would happen when they did? What did he want to happen?
He let himself imagine various possibilities, sending a thrill of excitement through his body. If Nick initiated anything, Jackson knew he wouldn’t be able to find the strength to resist—even though he knew it was probably a terrible idea. The realisation escaped in a shaky sigh.
“You okay, babe?” Nick said softly.
“Yeah.”
“Tired?” Nick put a hand on Jackson’s thigh, stroking him in a way that was more arousing than soothing.
“A bit.” Jackson wasn’t remotely tired if truth be told. As Nick’s hand crept a little higher every cell in his body was on red alert, primed and tingling. Nick grabbed his dick, squeezing it through his jeans, and Jackson bit back a yelp of surprise, turning it into a cough at the last minute.
“Wanna head up to bed?” Nick gave him a suggestive grin.
“Yes.” He shoved Nick’s hand away, glancing nervously at Pete who was still fixated on the TV, oblivious to the sexual tension that was building fast on the other side of the room.
Nick got up and offered Jackson a hand, helping to pull him up as he said cheerfully, “Night, Pete. See you in the morning.”
“Yeah, night, guys. Sleep well.”
They held hands as they hurried up the stairs. As Nick pushed open their bedroom door Jackson’s heart was pounding hard, and not just because of the two flights they’d climbed. The moment Nick shut the door behind them he put one hand on Jackson’s cheek and held his gaze intently. “Can I kiss you?”
Not trusting his voice, Jackson nodded.
Nick moved closer, pressing their bodies together, and Jackson leant into him, closing his eyes as their lips touched and slowly parted as the kiss deepened. Nick tasted of red wine and chocolate, the flavours as decadent as the slow erotic flicker of his tongue against Jackson’s. The rest of the world faded away as arousal wound around them, binding them together, and stripping Jackson of reason and logic. The whys and what ifs didn’t matter in this intimate space. He put his arms around Nick and held him close, kissing him more deeply as he lost himself in pure sensation.
Nick’s hand was under his shirt, resting warm against his chest. Jackson moved his hands down, cupping Nick’s gorgeous arse and squeezing.
How often had he imagined doing this? Way too many times. It was easy to imagine, because fortunately—or unfortunately perhaps—Jackson was all too familiar with the contours of Nick’s arse. In his club dancing days, he’d worn nothing but a jock, so Jackson had had ample opportunity to admire it when he’d been lucky enough to get a position near the stage. And nowadays, Nick was prone to wandering around the flat in his underwear so Jackson still got to ogle it on a regular basis.
Nick’s arse felt as good as it looked, but in Jackson’s imagination, there had always been fewer clothes in the way. With a heady rush, he suddenly realised there was nothing stopping him from getting into Nick’s pants… literally. He started working on Nick’s fly, breaking the kiss briefly to mutter, “Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” Nick said breathlessly.
Once he’d undone Nick’s fly, Jackson slipped one hand down the back of his underwear. He groaned as he made contact with the warm curve of Nick’s arse. Kissing Nick’s neck instead of his mouth, he pushed his fingers into the heat of Nick’s crack. “God, that feels good,” he muttered.
Nick laughed. “It should be me saying that. Oh!” he gasped as Jackson pressed more