Boz collapsed onto the bed. His trembling legs refused to hold him up any longer. He felt Jake pull free with a momentary pang of loss when the connection ended. That wasn’t good—this was supposed to be about defusing the heat between them, having a good time. Nothing more or deeper or—God forbid—emotional. But it was. s**t. It really was.
He lay still a long moment before he felt Jake’s urgent hands grasp him by his hips to flip him onto his back. The big man managed the task effortlessly. Those sculpted muscles were for real, the result of hard work and an active life, not the overdeveloped for show physique of a body builder.
Boz worked to stay fit because some of his days were very physical. Many were not, though, so most days he ran five miles, and the rest he tried to spend an hour
