Promise Rock 03 - Living Promises (MM) by Amy Lane Read Free Book Online

with the back of his hand. “As if!” Behind him, he could almost feel Deacon and Crick exchange some disgruntled glances, and then Deacon stretched out his arm and Jeff leaned on his hard—and too lean—chest again.
“I've never seen you come unglued,” Deacon mused, and Jeff gave a little purr.
“We're even,” he said, and then corrected himself. “Okay. You're up one. Now, you have officially seen me come unglued.”
“It wasn't pretty.”
Jeff sniffed with a little bit of disdain. “I hate you, you know.”
“If you really hated him, you'd stop groping him!” Crick had clearly had enough, but Jeff wasn't frightened off. For one thing, as far as Deacon was concerned, Jeff had as much sexuality as Benny. For another, well… he hadn't snuggled into another man's chest for a long time. Even if it was completely platonic (and nothing was stirring all points south, so Jeff was reassured), it was really, really wonderful.
“What are you going to do?” Deacon asked, and Jeff snuck a peek at him from under dark lashes. God, Crick's man was gorgeous. Oval face, square hairline, small nose, firm, not-quite-pointed chin, and the most amazing green eyes—if it weren't for the fact that Deacon couldn't even see the sun when Crick smiled, Jeff liked to think he might have stood a chance.
But then Jeff couldn't have leaned on the two of them when his world was falling apart. He'd learned a long time ago that lovers were the first to go.
“I have no idea,” Jeff mumbled now, soaking in the comfort. “As far as I know, Lucas Blaine is coming out to meet the kid. They know each other—Lucas was Kevin's best friend growing up. Then I told Lucas to call me and we'd meet somewhere.” Jeff shuddered, feeling that horrible, oily nausea that came from knowing someone who should love him was going to rip up his insides like Con liked to rip up couch pillows.
“Do you want to meet here?” Deacon asked, and Amy's voice popped over the couch, along with a beee-yooo-tiful eighteen-month-old baby.
“That would be a horrible idea. Uncle Jeff, give Lila a hug and a kiss, because she's going down in the porta-crib right now before she makes us all batshit, okay?”
Jeff swung the baby over his head and into his lap, and Deacon used that opportunity to disentangle himself. The move was none-toosoon: as soon as he was done, two and a half years of sturdy toddler tumbled into Deacon's lap and started making demands.
“Sing!” Parry Angel demanded. Amy had done her hair after her bath, and it perched in a curly brown ponytail that bobbed when she shook her head. “Sing!”
Deacon bounced her on his knee, making her giggle, and tried to be stern. “C'mon, Angel, you know you've got to ask nice for that!”
Two big blue eyes with a fringe of lashes almost as thick and dark as Jeff's own batted up at Deacon, and they all had to laugh. “Pweeeeaaazzzee?” she asked winsomely, and Deacon Parish Winters was, as always, helpless before his namesake.
“Yeah, Angel. C'mon.” He pulled the little girl up to his waist, and then Lila gave Jeff a sloppy kiss on the mouth and scrambled up after her favorite playmate, not to be left behind. Deacon laughingly scooped them both up, blowing bubbles on their necks and negotiating the narrow hallway easily as he took them to Parry's room, the better to lay them down and sing them to sleep. Jeff sort of wished he could go in there and listen himself—Deacon's singing voice was wonderful, but unless he was putting Parry Angel down, no one got to hear it.
Amy, tiny, vital Amy, had, in the meantime, scrambled over the couch and practically into Jeff's lap.
“Hey!” Jeff protested, but Amy just giggled, wiggled her little bottom between him and Crick and said, with much the same imperiousness as her daughter, if truth be known, “Hug. Need hug now!”
So Jeff got to hold her, and something shuddered out of his body that he hadn't been able to let go of when he'd been sobbing on Deacon, and he