Ennis had no interest in removing clothes. No. That would be suicide, in the cold, and out behind a redneck bar, to boot. No. He just needed to tug Jack's shirt loose from his jeans so he could get his hand down the front of the denim. He grunted, growled, rumbling violence just beneath the surface. His mouth was hard, possessive, unrelenting against Jack's lips, his hand moving forcefully agianst the man's sex.