It wasn’t a question, Evan knew his lover well enough to pick up on the signs, and even if he hadn’t, he’d have to have been blind to miss them. Justin was flushed from the open collar of his shirt up to where the brim of his Stetson set on his brow. His lips were darker, parted, his nostrils flaring slightly with each breath. His big body was tensed, the muscles coiled as if he were holding himself back from slamming Annabelle on the floor and burying his cock inside her. Fisted hands, erection straining in his jeans—yeah, Evan knew the signs, and since he felt the same way himself, he only smiled when Justin opened his mouth to deny it. “She is an interesting mix,” Evan continued as he glanced at Josh’s bedroom door. “Face of an angel, mouth of a sailor—” an image of those full red lips flashed in his mind. “Well, language of a sailor, that mouth is definitely made for sin,” he corrected. “Temper that sparks and ignites in a snap, and that body…” Evan palmed his own aching dick as Justin grunted.
