Reviews for Saxon James

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“Want to take off your shirt before we get started?”

“Sure.” He strips out of it and settles back into the chair again, but not before I get an eyeful of back muscles.

“You’re checking me out again,” he says.

“I told you you’re not going to have a problem tomorrow night.”

He laughs softly while I take off my shirt just in case, then pull on the gloves and get to it. I work in silence for a couple of minutes, just while I get the hang of everything.

“Do you remember the rules I gave you?” I ask.

He hums. “No names. No bringing anyone home.”

“Well done.”

“I feel like an immature kid for needing rules again.”

“Don’t.” I don’t like when he doubts himself. “You know your weaknesses and you’re working with them. That’s a good thing.”

“Well, let’s hope. Otherwise this time next week I could be in a relationship again.”

We both laugh, but mine is forced. I’m going to have to keep a closer eye on him than I thought.

“No strings, Griff,” I remind him. “Harmless fun. We’re living the bachelor life together.”

“I’m going to fuck all of this up, aren’t I?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

But even saying that, I’m not sure. He has a big heart, and when it comes to people he loves, he’s committed. Poppy, Felix, me. He’s always done whatever will make us happy, and I just know if he finds someone kind and easy to talk to tomorrow night, he will ask for a name and number.

There’s a chance they won’t give it of course.

But they’d be an idiot if they didn’t.

When I think I have most of his hair covered, I start to massage it in, rubbing my fingers into his scalp. His head relaxes back into my grip as a rumbly moan catches in his throat, and while I know it’s only because of the massage, that sound piques my interest. It’s low and raw and fucked if my cock gets the memo who it is that made the sound.

“Harder … yeah,” he mutters. “That feels so good.”

I have to close my eyes for a moment.

The massage, he means the massage, obviously.

But even as I remind myself of that fact, I’m picturing Griff naked in his kitchen again, cock in hand, murmuring about how good it feels.

Sweet fucking Jesus, where are these thoughts coming from?

“Why are you breathing like that?” he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Like what?”

“All … heavy …”

Ah, fuck, he’s right. I could lie, but he knows me too well for that. “Because you have a filthy fucking mouth, Griff.”

“What?”

I pitch my voice. “Oh, baby, that feels so good. Rub me harder, Heath. Get in there.”

His answering laugh is loud. “What?”

“Your filthy talk and moaning like a porn star. Geez, man, I’m only human.”

“You’re turned on?”

I shift around to the front of him, continuing to massage in the dye. “What do you think?”

His stare drops to my shorts, where I’m sure the hard outline of my cock is visible. I’m so focused on his hair and not watching his face in an attempt to read his thoughts, that I don’t notice when he reaches up.

He skims over my V with the back of his finger and a spear of arousal shoots down deep in my gut. My abs tense and I suck in a breath, caught off guard at just how good that felt.

“Sorry.” His voice is husky. “Your skin looked … warm.”

“Warm?”

He swallows. “It’s been a really long time.”

Our eyes lock as my hands pause and I read the uncertainty in his face as easily as my own thoughts.

What if we crossed that line … just once?

It would be easy. He’s hot, he’s available, and I know him better than anyone in the world. If there was ever a man I could read perfectly in bed, could drive out of his mind with want, it’d be Griff.

It would be a disaster.

Divorced Men’s Club Series

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