But just as they began to drift into silence… a knock came at the door.

Jack’s eyes flicked to the clock. Mason.

Kristy’s head lifted, eyes wide with sudden realization. “Jack… that’s my brother.”

Kristy stood near the back door, her flushed cheeks and tousled blonde hair making her look almost dreamlike in the fading light. She was still glowing from what had just happened—her breathing slowing, lips swollen from Jack’s kisses, thighs trembling from the aftermath of a moment she’d dreamed about for years.

Jack loomed nearby, bare-chested, muscles carved like stone under his sun-kissed skin, a towel slung low around his waist. His smirk was wicked, but his eyes held something protective as he leaned in and tucked a strand of hair behind Kristy’s ear.

“You need to go, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling murmur. “He’s pulling in now.”

Kristy’s eyes widened. “Mason?”

Jack nodded slowly. “Through the back. Quiet as you can. Don’t let him see you.”

Her pulse raced, but a giddy thrill sparkled in her eyes. She reached up, kissed Jack once—soft and lingering, tasting him one last time—and then tiptoed to the back door. Her clothes were hastily thrown on: panties still missing, bra twisted under her shirt, but she slipped out the screen door like a whisper, vanishing into the woods behind the cabin.

Jack watched her disappear, then turned slowly toward the front. The knock came loud, solid—Mason’s familiar rhythm.

He pulled the towel tighter around his waist, took a breath, then opened the door.

Mason stood there, slightly flushed from the sun, dark brown hair a bit tousled from the drive. His eyes narrowed the moment he stepped inside.

“Damn,” Mason muttered, sniffing the air. “Smells like… someone had a good time.”

Jack chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. “You know how it is out here. Peace, quiet… gets a man in the mood.”

Mason wandered in, eyeing the disheveled cushions on the couch, the half-empty glass of wine on the table, the faint outline of a handprint pressed into the foggy wood of the doorframe. He said nothing for a moment—just soaked it in, like a man standing at the edge of a mystery he wasn’t sure he should step into.

“You had company?” he finally asked, not looking at Jack yet.

Jack didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked past him slowly, each step heavy with relaxed confidence. The towel hung low on his hips, his back broad and dusted with sweat, glistening in the fading light.

“Maybe,” Jack said casually, pouring himself a drink. “You jealous?”

Mason snorted, but the sound lacked conviction. His eyes flicked to Jack’s body, then away. “Just curious.”

“Curiosity,” Jack said, walking slowly back toward him, “can be a dangerous thing out here.”

Mason didn’t move. He looked up at Jack as the older man came closer, eyes lingering on his chest, then his lips. “Or enlightening.”

Jack tilted his head, smirking. “You tell me.”

The tension in the room thickened. Mason shifted slightly on his feet. His voice dropped.

“So… who was she?”

Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped close—close enough that Mason could feel the heat from his skin, see the drop of sweat running down his chest. His towel shifted slightly, enough for the edge to fall open at one hip.

Mason licked his lips unconsciously.

“You ever been kissed by a man, Mason?” Jack asked, voice low and velvet-dark.

Mason’s breath hitched. “No.”

Jack leaned in just enough for his lips to graze Mason’s ear. “You ever wanted to be?”

A beat. Mason’s hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t back away. Jack’s presence was overwhelming—his scent, his voice, his size—impossible to ignore.

Jack drew back just enough to look him in the eye.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “That tug. That heat you can’t explain.”

Mason’s voice came out rough. “What if I do?”

Jack smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

“Then let me show you something.”

He raised a hand—slow and steady—and ran a knuckle along Mason’s jaw. Mason didn’t flinch. He leaned into the touch, just barely, like a man dipping his toes into forbidden water.

Jack leaned in again, lips ghosting over Mason’s. Not a kiss. Not yet. Just a promise.

Behind them, the scent of Kristy still lingered faintly in the air, mixing with woodsmoke and pine. Jack’s domain smelled like sin, and Mason had stepped right into it.

And the door was already closing behind him.