Handyman by Claire Thompson Page A

move. He’d have returned from the kitchen with his shirt off and his jeans unzipped. He’d have held out his hand to his potential lover and said, “Let’s go upstairs.”
    He didn’t dare do that with Jack. He found he didn’t even want to—not yet. He wanted to take his time, not only for Jack, but for himself. Something was different here—different than any prior or potential relationship. For once he didn’t want to get to the action as fast as possible. For once he wanted to savor the anticipation, not fixate solely on the prize of a hard, naked body in his bed.
    What must Jack be going through now? A lifetime’s notion of his sexual orientation teetering, perhaps already fallen, in the wake of that extraordinary kiss. How bright his eyes had been when they’d finally let each other go. His cock was clearly erect in his jeans, pointing like an arrow toward his hip. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to grab it through the denim.
    Will opened the bottles and returned to the living room. Jack was sitting much as he’d left him, leaning back, his arms now extended along the top of the sofa, his eyes on the screen. As Will entered, Jack looked over and sat forward, reaching out for the bottle.
    “Thanks,” he said, and smiled.
    Will settled in next to him. “What’s the score?”
    “Mets 10, Astros 6.”
    “Excellent.” They drank their beers. Will felt his rock-hard erection ease a little. He put his feet up on the coffee table and tried to concentrate on what the announcers were saying. This was best. Give Jack a chance to process things, to stay in a comfort zone as far as the two of them were concerned.
    He became aware of Jack’s leg, which was bouncing up and down in a nervous, somewhat-annoying jiggle. Casually, Will put his hand on Jack’s thigh. Jack’s leg ceased its anxious tap. He looked over at Will. “Sorry. Guess I’m kind of nervous.”
    “It’s okay.” Will smiled back. He removed his hand and returned his attention to the game. A few moments later Jack’s leg again began its nervous twitch, his foot tapping a steady beat against the floor.
    Will glanced toward Jack, who, upon becoming aware of his look, again stopped his nervous movement. “Sorry.”
    “It’s okay.” Will floated an idea that popped into his head. “Hey, maybe you’d like a massage. That might relax you, or relax your body at any rate. I’m told I give a mean massage. Would you like one?”
    “You don’t have to do that. I’m just a little edgy, is all. I’ll be fine.”
    “No, I want to. I’ll tell you what. I have a TV in my bedroom too. Come upstairs and I’ll put the game on. You can lie down and watch while I rub your back a little.
    “Don’t worry.” He had to laugh at Jack’s sudden panic-stricken look. “You can keep your pants on. No funny business, I promise. Remember, this is one hundred percent at your pace and comfort level. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
    Jack nodded and stood. “Okay. Lead the way.”
    Will sat on the bed, watching Jack as he unbuttoned his shirt and laid it carefully over the back of a chair. His chest was massive—a strong, burly barrel chest with curling dark hair sprinkled with silver. The muscles in his arms and shoulders were bulging. Will drew in his breath, enthralled at the man’s raw masculinity. He honestly hadn’t realized how strong and well-built Jack was, his body until this moment hidden in loose denim work shirts.
    He suppressed the intense urge to kneel at Jack’s feet and pull his pants down those strong, thickly muscled legs. He had to resist the fierce temptation to drag his underwear from his body and take his cock deep into his throat, not letting go until Jack begged for mercy. Will shook his head, forcing the vivid images from his mind.
    Jack looked decidedly nervous as he approached the bed. “Uh, how should I be? How do you want me?”
    Naked on your hands and knees. “Just lie on your stomach, with your head at