prison, but apparently it was me. I’d feel better once we were back in Elkin Lake and settling into a normal routine, though.
At least, I hoped so.
5
Jazz
God, was I glad Tex had gotten us separate rooms.
For the first time in three years, I was alone. Really and truly alone. I had a door that locked, a bathroom of my own, and a double bed all to myself—and I was going to put it all to good use.
My jaw still ached from where Tex had punched me, but in a strange way, I found it comforting. It wasn’t the brutal nose-breakers guys threw in the prison yard, and it wasn’t the hard, stinging welts that bloomed from the guards’ nightsticks. It was just—a brotherly punch. It’d reminded me of all our teenage scuffles and drunken wrestling matches, of all the times our anger had flared up at each other only to die down just as quickly, the way it does with boys living out of each other’s pockets.
And fuck, seeing him at the beach earlier had almost killed me.
He was still taller than me—that would never change, although I’d spent my teen years hoping—but he’d put on some muscle as well. He was muscular, but lean, more like a runner than a brawler. I knew how much strength was hidden in those coiled muscles.
And of course, he’d worn offensively small swim trunks that clung to the width of his thighs and the curve of his ass—and the fucking trunks were yellow, so pale that when they got wet they were nearly see-through. I guess we’d both gotten bigger over the past few years, and Tex hadn’t bothered to buy new trunks.
I’d drank in the sight of it like a man dying of thirst. All that pale skin, so familiarly freckled and rapidly pinking in the sun—he’d always been prone to sunburn.
He was so gorgeous—powerful and graceful and Tex. If I couldn’t touch him the way I wanted, I could at least keep this memory in my mind, tucked away for safekeeping.
And then he had to go and tell me I broke his heart.
I retreated to my shower a little tipsy and a lot emotional; I let the hot water pound over my back and couldn’t stop thinking about Tex’s broad chest wet with seawater, and the sharp look in his green eyes when he looked at me with barely contained frustration.
I couldn’t help it. I’d always liked it when he got riled up, when he couldn’t keep a lid on his passion and started acting impulsively.
I started to get hard just thinking about it, like I was a teenager again. When I’d first started to have feelings for Tex, all those years ago, just a certain look from him and a stiff breeze could make me hard. It’d gotten easier to handle as I’d gotten older, but after three years without him, and suddenly blessed with all this privacy, it was like I was back to square one.
But why hold back now? I’d had a lot of stupid fantasies about Tex throughout the years, what was one more? At least I was fantasizing about him in a place where I could finally enjoy it—where I wasn’t trying to stay dead silent while ignoring the snores of the other guys in my cellblock.
With my eyes closed, the rush of the shower water sounded almost like the waves pounding the shore as we’d stood under the pier. I thought again of Tex’s green eyes blazing, his muscled chest rising and falling with quick, angry breaths.
Now, I imagined him coming into the shower to show me how he really felt. He’d still be angry, frustrated with me, and wanting to assert his dominance a little. I liked that fiery side of him—had dreamed of it too many nights to count. I imagined him stepping into the shower with me, his shoulders pink from sun and growing pinker from the heat of the shower.
I skated my hand down my chest. I took my time, pausing to roll my nipples in between my fingers and press my palm against my abs, adding a sharp little spike of pressure to the arousal building hot in my stomach. I leaned heavily against the tile and huffed an exhale.
I imagined that the cool tiles on my chest were there because Tex had pushed me up against the wall of the shower, his taller body covering mine. Then he’d kick my legs apart a little so he could stand even