Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 815(@200wpm)___ 652(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
It wasn’t like him. At all.
That was my sign.
And it only kept getting stronger with each meeting after that.
I’m not sure if he’s curious or just confused, but he’s attracted to me.
He opened his mouth for me like a very good boy that day when he was drunk. After that, he came so hard when I spanked his ass only a little.
And while that falls well within my plan, my reaction to him does not.
It’s just…I didn’t expect how viscerally I’d feel for him.
I like my fuck buddies silent and obedient. Preston is neither. He’s such a disrespectful loudmouth, and so far from my type, it should be a turn-off.
And yet he’s the first person my dick has come alive to without him having to touch it.
As I said. A complication.
One I won’t allow to ruin my course of action.
I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder, grab my stick, and head through the entrance.
It’s been over five minutes. That should be enough time to give him space.
The moment I walk into the locker room, I pause, my fingers tightening on the sling of my duffle bag.
Preston is standing in front of his locker, naked except for tight black boxer briefs that barely fit him, rummaging around inside.
Taut legs that go for miles, all defined and sculpted from years of conditioning training. It doesn’t show in hockey clothes, but he’s actually quite muscular—big, proportionate, and with the most beautiful, lean, sculpted waist.
But the thing that stops me in my tracks is the snake.
A creepily detailed serpent that’s inked across his entire right half, its tail coiling around his arm near the wrist, winding up his bicep and shoulder, wrapping across his back in multiple loops before reappearing along his ribs and abs. Its head rests low on his hips, snarling from just above the waistband of his boxer briefs.
It’s…riveting. Just like the man wearing it.
Beautiful. Dangerous. Pretending to be whole.
I wonder if the snake means something—especially paired with the yin and yang behind his ear—or if these were symbols he collected because he thought they looked cool when he chose his tattoos.
There are scars, too. Pale lines scattered across his back, old and fresh, like he’s a walking target.
How the hell do they raise their children in this hellish town?
I tap my thumb against my middle finger while I take him in. He’s…unusually unguarded right now. He left the door open behind him, so he must have known I’d follow—yet nothing about him is tense.
He’s simply standing there, unaware of how much the sight of him provokes my inner demon.
Certainly, he didn’t think I’d run away just because he was a little violent.
A little freaked out.
Nearly choked himself with his stick.
I suppose someone else would have left. Lucky for him, I’m not someone else.
He retrieves his compression shirt and pauses but doesn’t look at me. “Tell anyone about what you just saw, and I’ll pluck your eyes out and use them as earrings.”
“Aw, you want to keep me on you forever?”
He releases a tsking sound as he tilts his head in my direction and glares at me. Preston probably doesn’t realize how adorable he is when spouting his homicidal gibberish.
He also doesn’t know that he lets me into his head so easily. I know exactly the right buttons to push to provoke such a reaction in him toward me.
I love seeing him so worked up when facing me.
It’s quickly turning into a dangerous addiction.
“You think I’m joking? I’ll shove your bike keys so far up your ass, you’ll need a surgeon and holy water to retrieve them.”
“Now you want to finger my ass?” I grin. “I’m not open to that since I strictly top. But I’m flattered you’re thinking of me so deeply.”
“Like hell I am, you—” He cuts himself off, facing me fully, and I get distracted by something.
In the middle of his sternum, there’s a tattooed fracture that catches the light, delicate yet realistic, like broken glass.
That’s disturbing.
I find nothing disturbing.
And yet the view of an odd tattoo right in the middle of Preston’s chest elicits a strange reaction out of me.
Why does he have it there?
“I mean it.” He crosses his beautifully sculpted biceps over his chest. The contrast of his fully tattooed arm over his undecorated one is a sight to behold.
“A word gets out about tonight, I’ll strangle you with your shoelaces.”
“You’re adorably homicidal today.”
“I’ll be adorably vicious.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Stop annoying me when I’m so close to committing murder, Marcus.”
“Mmm.” I step toward him slowly so as not to scare him off. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name. I like it.”
His lips part as if he didn’t realize he was, in fact, using my first name instead of Osborn this and Osborn that.
He clears his throat. “You also said my first name earlier.”