5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Jordan

I t wasn’t that I hadn’t been over to Rogue’s house.

He and Amanda had lived in their parents’ rancher forever. Their folks preferred to leave the place with their kids rather than sell once they moved to a retirement community about a half hour north.

I’d never been to Rogue’s house when it was just him and me.

And I’d definitely never been to his house with the implication of a hookup hanging over our heads. However, I sure as hell wouldn’t be sad if we both ended the night in orgasms. The first bout of community service had consisted of far more crafting than I was comfortable with, and I was pretty sure I’d only survived because Rogue had done most of the crafting while I’d fetched supplies. We’d always worked pretty well as a team though.

The rolling hills zipped by as I sped along the highway leading to the edge of town where he lived.

I hadn’t been lying, though, about not wanting to head back home. Chad, Hal, and I were fine, but my housing situation rubbed me wrong. Maybe because I was in my midtwenties, and the allure of living with the two of them for another ten years didn’t hold the same appeal it did a few years back. Or maybe I was getting sick of my siblings and the rest of town acting like they needed to babysit me. Sure, I occasionally did dumb shit, but there was a difference between dumb and dangerous.

I pulled to a stop in front of Rogue’s place, outside of town enough that there were miles between him and his closest neighbors. It was a rancher-style home, with dusty-blue siding and a charcoal roof, and the perfect place for bonfires and potato rocket launchers. Rogue wasn’t the hosting sort, even though he was social as shit, which I assumed had partially been due to Amanda, who felt the same way about people as most did about root canals.

Rogue’s car was parked in the lot, and the lights were on inside the house, casting a homey glow through the windows. I sucked in a sharp breath, collecting myself. The second I stepped out into the brisk air, I winced. How the fuck had I streaked in this weather just last week?

Alcohol was a strange creature.

I walked up to the door, and by the time I knocked, my cheeks were iced over.

It swung open, and Rogue stood in the doorway, looking hot as fuck.

He’d dropped the flannel he’d been wearing at the town hall and dressed down to a black tank top that highlighted his tattoos and green cargo pants. He’d ditched his boots and socks too, his bare feet hitting me in an odd way. Not like I had a foot fetish, but despite knowing each other for ages, we didn’t have the sort of hang-out time where we’d lounge around in bare feet and boxers or anything.

Nah, we were Boots Bros. Some shit like that.

Except now, I wanted him to lose a few layers.

“Gonna just gawk at me or let me in?” I asked. “It’s fucking cold out here. ”

“Didn’t seem to bother you the other night,” Rogue teased, his voice going a pitch lower. The glint in his eyes hadn’t been there before and added a new dimension to our interactions. After knowing him for a good chunk of my life, it was wild to witness him in a whole new light.

I walked inside without further prompting and bit back a curse as my nose and cheeks started to melt. Paintings I was used to seeing here had been changed, and this was only the second changeover from when his parents moved out five years ago. Instead of Amanda’s pastel style, Rogue had gone for more of a rockabilly vibe, all punk and Sailor Jerry aesthetic, and it was clear Rogue made his mark on the place.

“The updates look good.” I kicked off my boots by the door.

“The empty spaces drove me nuts when Amanda moved out,” Rogue said. “I work from home, so they were just watching me all day long.”

I snorted. As I passed him on the way to the kitchen, our arms brushed together, and a zing traveled up. Goddamn. How had I been sleeping on this for so long? Probably because of the parade of girlfriends I’d had over the years.

Rogue’s kitchen was all black-and-white fixtures in good repair, far nicer than the one the boys and I shared that belonged in the ’70s. It also lacked the dirty socks Chad tended to leave by the kitchen table.

“Please tell me you have beer.” I walked to his fridge.

“I’d say help yourself, but it’s clear you’re already going for it.” Rogue leaned against the black countertop. His casual stance was sexy, same as the way strands of his honey-blond hair escaped his bun. His tongue peeked out as he licked his bottom lip, which sent a jolt of lust ricocheting through me. Fucking hell, he was hot.

Somehow I’d gone from straight to bi like the leap off a waterfall, but the shift wasn’t too much of a surprise. I’d always found certain actors attractive, but the majority of the guys in Collier’s Creek hadn’t jumped out at me, probably because most of them were either related to me in some way or rugged, which wasn’t my type.

Nah, my type was tattooed and dangerous looking, even if I was the bigger shit-stirrer. Apparently, even my dick searched for an alibi.

I found a six-pack of IPAs and made a mental note to bring him something next time. If we hadn’t gone straight from the town hall, I would have—I wasn’t that much of a dick—but my focus had been on getting out of crafting hell and into Rogue’s pants.

“Beer?” I asked, lifting two as I glanced at Rogue. He looked sexy as hell, and damn, I was finding myself more curious by the second.

“Yeah, okay.” He grabbed one from me and twisted the cap off.

I busied myself with mine, then tossed the cap into his trash can.

“How are you so chill with what happened?” Rogue blurted out.

I leaned against the counter beside him and tipped the beer to my lips, taking a swig. The ice-cool liquid cleared my head of everything but lust. That had been on full broil from the moment Rogue walked into the town hall.

“Weren’t you the one who insisted we had to be cool afterward?” I teased.

Rogue elbowed me in the side. “Yeah, I didn’t mean this cool. Though I guess you could always close your eyes and pretend it was a girl who gave you head.”

“Oh, yeah?” I said, angling toward him. “You think I’m terrified a guy wrapped his lips around my cock and drank down my load?”

Rogue’s cheeks colored, and fuck, I liked that. “Well, when you put it that way, maybe not. Being with a guy is different though.”

I placed the beer on the counter beside me. “I’m aware.” I prowled a step closer. We were a breath apart, and this near, I reveled in the way Rogue’s hazel eyes widened. How his lips parted, glossed from the beer he’d just sipped. Damn, he’d probably taste delicious. Those lips had felt like sin around my cock, and as the quiet descended between us, the air crackling with tension, there was only one thing left to do.

I closed the space and pressed my lips to his.

Rogue stiffened at first, and I almost pulled back, but a second later, he relaxed into the kiss. His lips were soft, his mouth hot against mine, and the bit of scrape from his scruff was fucking sexy. He tasted like the IPA, crisp and delicious, and I deepened the kiss, sweeping my tongue into his mouth. The shift delivered a jolt of pure electricity through me, the sort that woke me up faster than coffee on Christmas morning, and I sank into the kiss.

I wrapped my hand around his nape and leaned against him so his back rested against the counter. Having him pinned there sent a heady flush through me, and I drank in the feel of his body pressed to mine. The heat ratcheted up about a thousand degrees, and I grew dizzy with all of it—the taste of his lips, the feel of his body, the soft puff of his breath. I inhaled deeply and launched in with renewed fervor, excitement pinging through my veins.

This was Rogue, fucking Nick Levine, who I’d known for years. Who I’d gotten into childhood fights with, scraped knees with when we caused trouble. Who I’d kicked back beers and bottles with at almost every Collier’s Creek festivity—and there had been about five thousand of them.

And not only were we making out, but it was also hot as fuck. My dick had woken up and strained the fabric of my Levis, but I didn’t want to stop. I licked into his mouth, our tongues tangling. I dragged my fingers up his nape to thread through those silken strands and gripped tight. Rogue’s moan vibrated against my lips. Fuck. Yes. I wanted to get him to make that noise again, take him apart with my mouth, my tongue, my cock .

This might be my first kiss with a guy, but Rogue was addictive, and we would definitely be doing this again. The urge to grind against him mounted in a big way, but he was also one of my damn best friends, and I had to make sure we were on the same page. I sure as fuck hadn’t been freaked out by what we’d done, but if anything, his hesitance suggested he might’ve been.

I slowly drew back but regretted it at once. I wanted to keep making out with Rogue the rest of the night, with dicks and orgasms involved, but as much as I could be a mess, I was a loyal mess.

“So, that clear enough for you?” I arched a brow. I kept my body pressed against his because why the fuck not. He was all hard lines and lankiness, but I liked that I still towered over him to crowd in his space. His lips were reddened from our kissing, and I couldn’t help but remember the way they’d looked around my cock.

He coughed and shifted, the movement causing his hard length to brush against my thigh. Pleasure jolted through me, and the urge to chase that sensation until we were both panting rose higher.

“So clearly you’re fine with kissing a guy too,” Rogue said, his voice a little throaty and a lot sexy.

I flashed him a grin. “More than. I’m curious about everything. Once you pop, you can’t stop.”

“Did you just compare your sexuality to a Pringles can?” he asked and shook his head. “Never mind. That doesn’t surprise me.”

“Hey, I’ve tried everything I can think of when it comes to straight sex.” I shrugged. “However, there are limited places you can have sex and not get caught by the sheriff. I swear he’s got bloodhounds—sex hounds?—hunting the town for wrongdoers.”

“Pretty sure we’re on the wrong side of the law already. We don’t need to add to our offenses.” He picked up his bottle of beer and took another swig, a nervous gesture that was really fucking cute. Seeing this side of him was so damn fun, and I didn’t want to tread backward. “When you say everything…”

“I mean, I’ve already done anal with partners, if that’s what you’re asking.” I grabbed my bottle and chugged another few gulps. “Honestly, so goddamn hot. So if that’s on the table, I’m not going to be sad in the slightest either.”

Rogue had been midswallow, and a spray of beer followed. I wiped a few flecks off my shirt.

“Fucking hell, J. You can’t just traipse from ‘oh, I’m so straight’ to ‘I’d like to plow a guy.’”

“Mmm, pretty sure I can. I’ve got a whole list of things I’d like to try now.” I might’ve been thinking with my dick, but disbelief clouded Rogue’s eyes. No matter what the word around town was, I wasn’t a total asshole. “Hey, that’s not a participation-required thing. You might’ve kicked open the door for me, but I understand if you want to hop off at this station.”

Rogue looked hard at me as if he tried to pull some Scott Summers laser gaze shit. “Dude, I’m not going to let you fuck Kyle and get banned from the hardware store. One of us still needs to be able to go in there.”

My heart thumped hard. “You mean…”

He heaved an overdramatic sigh. “Fine. We can do your list together. Just one request.”

Damn, this result was better than I’d expected. “Sure, anything.”

“Don’t you want to hear it first? I could be asking to fuck in a clown suit or some shit.”

I snorted. “Look, if you want to let me in that sweet, sweet clussy, I’ll roll with the punches. Or whatever the asshole equivalent is.”

Rogue had been lifting the beer to his lips and slammed it down on the counter. He pulled a rag from where it hung by the oven and cleaned the original spray. “I apparently can’t drink anymore around you. Holy fuck.”

“Okay, so hit me with the rules.” I tipped back the rest of my beer, swallowed the dregs, and tossed the empty bottle into his recycling bin.

“Look, all I’m asking is if we’re doing this, can you call me Nick? Rogue’s fine for a nickname, but it’d feel weird as fuck getting called that in the throes of…whatever the fuck we’re doing.” Rogue squeezed his nape, and the slight flush on his cheeks was delicious.

“Sure, Nick.” I drew out his name and stepped close until barely an inch existed between us. His eyes widened, pupils blown with lust, and his breath puffed against my mouth. “So, what item on the list do you want to check off next?”