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Summary
“Buck,” Eddie said, and his voice came out low.
“Your angle’s off.” Buck’s tone had gone quieter too, not joking now. “Hold still.”
Eddie did.
Buck adjusted him by the smallest amount, fingers spreading briefly against Eddie’s side. Eddie’s entire body locked around the contact. The room seemed to narrow to the lamp over the table, Buck at his back, the green felt under Eddie’s knuckles.
“Now,” Buck murmured.
Eddie took the shot.
The eight ball dropped.
Buck’s hand remained where it was for one beat. Two.
Then he stepped back.
OR Buck gets sarcastic, Eddie gets horny about it, and things escalate on the pool table