Chapter 246

But he didn’t. He still loved it. It was still home.

And he must have sat there longer than he anticipated, because Andy opened the door for him, a rueful grin on his mouth. “You’ll turn me into a southern gentleman, eventually?” Andy suggested, waving him out.

“Just a veneer,” Scooter said. “You’ll always be a Yankee underneath. In fact, you are a damn Yankee.”

“And yet you married me anyway.” Andy checked the time on his phone. “Simon’s not bringing Billie home until after lunch. We’ve got a couple of hours if you want to just chill and process or whatever.”

“My marryin’ you is what made you a damn Yankee,” Scooter pointed out. He stepped closer into Andy’s personal space. “You came down here, and now you won’t leave.” He slid a hand around Andy’s waist, resting his fingers on Andy’s belt, feeling the warm skin just below the tee. “Give you another decade or so, an’ maybe you’ll work your way up t’ being a southern sympathizer.”

“Oh, now you’re looking for sympathy,” Andy said. He leaned into Scooter, sliding his arms up around Scooter’s neck.

“Little southern comfort,” Scooter suggested. He got a hand under Andy’s tee and drew a little circle on his husband’s side, teasing. “After lunch, hmmm. Care to work up an appetite with me, Mistah Howard-Stahl?” He put some effort into his accent, sounding more like Kat pretending to be southern.

Andy snorted a laugh. “Why, Mr. Stahl-Howard, are you propositioning me? While the sun is up? And we’re standing outside? How very scandalous of you.”

For just a moment, Scooter entertained the notion, but—”Rather make you scream than do quick, quiet, and dirty in the back of my truck,” Scooter said, but still pushed Andy against the side of the vehicle, nudging his head back to get at his neck and nipped the join right at the shoulder. He couldn’t help it; whenever Andy’s body was pressed against his, Scooter rolled his hips, wanting that friction and heat.

Andy shivered at the contact, and rocked into the pressure. “You want to make it into the house, you need to stop that,” he panted.

Scooter pulled back, slow, feeling the heat swirl between them. He paused, wanting to take his fill of Andy’s mouth. No one kissed like Andy did, all sweet wringing sensation and aching fire, but once Scooter succumbed to that mouth, he was going to take and take until he couldn’t stop. His lips brushed over the very tip of Andy’s nose. “All right, babe,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

Andy twisted past, letting his body drag across Scooter’s, and headed for the house. He paused a couple of stairs up and glanced back, as if making sure Scooter was right behind him, eyes fixed on Andy’s gorgeous ass. As if Scooter would ever be anywhere else when Andy was going up stairs. Andy grinned and took the rest of the stairs a careful two at a time, showing off the flex of muscle in his thighs.

God, it was a wonder Scooter ever walked like a normal man. Hnnnnng. He grabbed the rail and launched himself up the stairs after Andy. Got an arm around him before he’d even fumbled out his keys. Stuck one hand into Andy’s pocket, groping around, searching for the keychain, with quite a bit more effort than strictly required, bracketing Andy up against the door. His fingers brushed against the side of Andy’s dick through the thinner material of his pocket. “Well, that’s not th’ key,” Scooter said, stroking again.

“You sure?” Andy asked, leaning back into Scooter’s body. “Sure feels like it’s opening something. Better check again.”

“Maybe it’s in the other pocket,” Scooter suggested, sliding his right hand in, trapping Andy against him, checking very thoroughly. Playing a little pocket-pool, getting Andy wound up nice and tight until Andy was rocking back against him, keys completely forgotten.

“Oh God,” Andy rasped, tipping his head back and bracing his hand against the door frame. “You planning to make me shoot off right here?”

“Lookit that,” Scooter said, taking his hand out of Andy’s pocket and plucking the keys from Andy’s hand. “You had ‘em the whole time.” He flicked through the ring one handed, got to the house key and took his time sliding the key into the lock, still keeping his other hand in Andy’s pocket. God, it did things to him, seeing Andy so needy and wanting. Made him proud and melty at the same time, smug and eager. A twist of wanting lanced through his gut as Andy moaned. He turned the key.

Andy all but kicked through the door, dragging Scooter inside by the wrist. “Get in here, you menace,” he growled. Andy tugged Scooter’s shirt free of his jeans and started working it upward, hands warm and calloused against Scooter’s skin.