By the time the second movie was nearing its conclusion, Tyler had stretched out over most of the couch, leaving Jack only in the corner. Tyler, who’d fallen asleep, was leaning against Jack, his head resting on Jack’s thigh just above the knee. A saint couldn’t withstand that much temptation as far Jack was concerned and he certainly was no saint.
His hand crept—okay not by itself, Jack’s brain told it to—over to Tyler’s head and he spread his fingers into the soft tresses. He didn’t know if you were supposed to think of a guy’s hair as being tresses but whatever. Tyler didn’t really wake up, just sort of hummed low.
Jack knew he needed to stop massaging Tyler’s head. Friends didn’t do such things. But damn there was that honeysuckle. And really, who was he kidding? He wanted to f**k Ty
