Julian’s head moved. His full lips lightly brushed across Beckett’s pec. Beckett wanted to believe Julian placed a kiss there as he stretched out his long body and opened his eyes. He blinked then blinked again before his eyelids slid closed.
“It seems like it might be later than I think.”
“Ten seventeen,” Beckett murmured, angling his chin to keep an eye on Julian who bolted straight up. “Sleepyhead.”
“Are you serious?” Julian whipped his head toward the small clock on his dresser before jerking the duvet away. He used Beckett’s body as a launching point to crawl to the edge of the mattress, his knees and elbows hitting all the wrong spots as he went. “Woofer has to go outside, or he’ll have an accident, and nobody wants that.”
“I took him out,” Beckett said, grabbing his stomach from the pain of the elbow landing there.
Julian stopped midmotion of shrugging Beckett’s pajama pants on, letting them drop again to the floor. Woofer leisurely strolled around the corner into the bedroom, coming to Julian’s side. Like both men, Woofer had slept the morning away. The dog seemed to relish everyone being home together.
Julian’s hand automatically reached for the dog as his critical gaze went back to Beckett’s body, turning to admire him as it ran the length from toe to head. “Your body’s incredible. There’s not an inch of fat on you. You never go to the gym?”
The praise made Beckett grin as he recognized again that he was the only nude one between them. His dick didn’t seem to mind as it firmed under Julian’s speculative gaze.
As much as he might want those lips back on his cock, his way of carefully handling Julian came roaring to the forefront. Julian needed to be the one to set their pace. So, instead of trying to entice Julian back to his cock, he made a show of the pain of Julian’s elbow hitting him in the stomach and reached for the duvet, tossing it over his lap to hide his arousal.
“Yeah, yeah. Stop trying to distract me. You could’ve been a little more careful.”
The diversion tactic worked. Julian reached down to toss his pants on the end of the bed and pivoted toward his bathroom, taking long strides that direction. He spoke, even as he closed the door behind him. “I never sleep this long. Not ever. I’m not really a sleeper…”
Beckett regretfully left the bed. He reached for his underwear and pajama pants as he lifted an armpit to do a quick sniff test. Seemed good, so he gathered his clothes and toiletries from the suitcase. He chose to dress in the small half bath off the entry. Maybe they could go for a bite of lunch before the margarita tour.
Getting them out of the condo, enjoying the day outside of these walls might be their best bet against pushing Julian sexually before he was ready. The guy hadn’t lied when he said he was skilled at sex. That blow job fucking blew his mind.
A life filled with sexually charged episode after episode filled Beckett’s mind as well as his cock as he brushed his teeth. Holding back his desire was getting harder and harder to do.
“Did you hear me?”
Beckett looked at the wall separating the two bathrooms when he heard Julian’s voice. “Maybe. What did you say?” Beckett called through the sheetrock.
“Lunch or back to bed?”
“Lunch,” he answered firmly. Mind over matter and all that mess.
“Good choice. I’m starving.”
Beckett smiled at Julian’s reply. His mind jumped to other thoughts as soon as he heard the shower turn on. He had to force his mind from the imprinted picture of Julian standing nude in the shower a few days ago.
Think coffee… Making room inside his truck for Julian to sit… Think steps, walking many, many steps on the tour. He needed comfortable shoes. With another heavier sigh, Beckett focused on dressing as Julian’s shower continued.
The day’s anthem, “Margaritaville” by Jimmy Buffett, played from every bar they hit throughout the afternoon. If Julian didn’t know the words by now, he’d have to be an idiot, but that wasn’t what had him transfixed, not by a long shot. Instead, his cowboy held all his attention, standing at the edge of the bar, a shot of tequila being pushed into his resistant hands.
“Drink, drink, drink, drink!” Julian happily chanted alone, drawing every eye in the bar and on the street their direction as he tried his damnedest to peer pressure Beckett into drinking another shot of tequila.
Beckett’s brow furrowed as he lifted the small glass and looked over at Julian as if he were crazy. “Now, why am I drinking this and you’re not?”
That same question had been asked at their last three stops on the margarita tour. The answer never changed. Things that applied to Beckett didn’t apply to Julian. It seemed reasonable enough to understand.