Free The Heart of Texas by R. J. Scott Page A

Jack climbed out of bed and strolled into the bathroom.
    * * * *
    As soon as the door closed, Riley released the breath he'd been holding. The tension across his shoulders and up the back of his neck was incredible, tight and painful. He moved his head from side to side, trying to release the pressure. This always happened whenever he brought someone to his family, be they friend or lover. This was always how he ended up, stressed and tense, and he threw a prayer to the heavens that his dad and brother would remain absent. He imagined the article on the marriage would appear today in the gossip column, alongside the best picture they had taken at the ceremony that he had anonymously sent. He had organized this marriage as a kick in the face to his dad and relished the moment his dad found out Riley had played him at his own game, but that didn't stop the actual fear he felt at his father's reaction.
    The bathroom door opened, and Jack walked out, a drift of steam behind him, his back, shoulders and chest glistening with water droplets and his hips wrapped in a towel. Casting one glance at Riley, he took off the towel and dried himself, not bothering to cover his nakedness. Then he rummaged in his bags for boxers and his clean jeans. Jack's body was lean and strongly made. His defined muscles were due to hard work, Riley knew, not a gym regimen. Riley couldn't not look. It was impossible to pull his eyes away from the thick half erect dick that hung between his husband's legs. He just stared as Jack pulled on the boxers and jeans, and tried to pretend that his own flesh wasn't swelling as well. Then Jack turned to face Riley with the jeans unfastened and the dark blue cotton of his underwear clear against the open fly.
    "See something you like, Het-boy?" he enquired, quirking an eyebrow and tilting his head to one side.
    God help me, yes! "Fuck you" was all Riley could come up with in the moment. Balling up a sweatshirt, he threw it at Jack, who caught it with ease and unrolled it, looking down at the Dallas Cowboys logo, worn and split after many washes. "Wear that," Riley said. "It's my favorite shirt, and it will give our story more credibility." He waved his hand in a gesture of whatever . Jack pulled his lower lip between his teeth and held up the sweatshirt to inspect it. His expression was doubtful, but eventually he pulled it over his head.
    Riley swallowed. This was getting stupid. He needed to get a handle on these stupid lust-ridden feelings that kept washing over him. Freaking Campbell and his no sex rule was going to kill him by a week from Sunday. I am not gay, I am not gay, I am not gay. I might be a small bit bi, but I am not gay. The sweatshirt was long on Jack and hung way over his belt. But the age of it had thinned the material to the point where it clung to Jack's form, and it didn't help that Jack used his large capable hands to smooth the material down over his flat stomach. I am not gay—
    "Fuck's sake, Campbell, this isn't a live sex show. Let's get a move on," Riley snapped, waiting by the door, arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping impatiently.
    Jack didn't answer, just followed his new husband to the top of the stairs and then held him back by his sleeve. Irritation had Riley turning sharply, Jack catching him on the turn and pulling him close, leaning up and guiding him in for a kiss.
    "For appearances," he whispered simply just as their lips met, and Jack reached up to tangle a hand in Riley's hair, holding his head still and close. Finally Jack released him, and Riley pulled back so slowly he could feel Jack's breath lingering on his skin. His mouth was tingling from the pressure of the kiss, his blood was heating up, and he knew his mouth was half-open, making him look like a bemused idiot.
    Jack took his hand confidently and moved to take the first step. "C'mon, Het-boy, let's do this thing."

Chapter 13

    The large breakfast room was empty save for one maid who was dishing hot cooked