Smug git.
They stumbled into Tip’s bedroom with barely the presence of mind to close the door. Still, if Janey or Mike wandered by and got an eyeful, they had only themselves to blame. They’d had fair warning.
“Finally,” Steve groaned. “No aunties, no sisters, no interruptions.” He ripped off his shirt, and as that magnificent chest was bared, Tip’s knees managed a little magic of their own, transforming bone and cartilage into jelly.
Fortunately Steve caught him on the way down, once again swinging Tip up into muscular arms as if he weighed no more than a fainting Hollywood damsel. Which, as it happened, was pretty much the case, but Tip had never been able to view it as an advantage until now. Every muscle in his body went blissfully limp, making the contrast with a certain part of his anatomy even more dramatic.