Of course there were plenty of excellent reasons why not.
Jason managed to block them all out as Kennedy unlocked his door and let them both inside his room.
The lights were out. The room smelled like all hotel rooms. The only landmark was Kennedy.
The door swung shut, the deadbolt slid home, Kennedy’s arms closed around Jason.
Jason was conscious of Kennedy’s muscular length backing him into the door, the alcohol-scented heat of Kennedy’s breath on his face, the speedy expertise with which Kennedy’s long fingers unbuckled Jason’s holster—clearly he had plenty of practice in disarming lovers—before turning his attention to Jason’s shirt buttons.
“Good,” Kennedy muttered. “This is good.”
Which…the jury was still out, but yes, it was looking promising so far. Jason arched his neck and found Kennedy’s mouth. Hot and tasting like booze with an undernote of stinging sweetness. Kennedy neither rejected nor reciprocated the kiss, his attention focused on undoing the last buttons of Jason’s shirt.
Jason’s shoulders were wide, and his shirt was tailored, so it took a few seconds, but at last Kennedy laid bare Jason’s chest. He let out a sigh of satisfaction, fingertips skating lightly, slowly, over the flat planes of Jason’s abs, tracing a line between his pecs, and circling round to graze the nipples that pricked to attention at that tingling touch. Jason’s breath caught in his throat.
Kennedy lowered his head, touched a nipple with his tongue, and Jason gasped and jumped, his head hitting the door with a noisy thump.
“Easy,” Kennedy murmured. His voice was unfamiliar in its huskiness, even sexy. “Don’t knock yourself out.” He sounded amused.
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