Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
A chill rushes up my spine. “I’m sorry.”
“Again, not your fault.”
Isn’t it, though?
He heads for the door without even looking at me. “I’ll be back.”
I’m tempted to think, despite how much he insists otherwise, that he rightly blames me for what happened to him. If I’d just let him think I was in a cult, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
While he’s gone, I figure I should at least try to get some reading in for class. I stick the safety latch in the doorway so he won’t have to knock when he’s finished up, then pop a mint into my mouth before lying in bed with my Philosophy textbook. I quickly discover it’s not easy to get reading in when your brain’s racing with bizarre, unsettling, and confounding thoughts. I wind up back on a website about the Buford Night Stalker.
His MO was hunting young men and women around town, abducting and doing the sorts of things sick fucks like him do to innocent people. The FBI linked his DNA to one of the victims from years earlier, and when they raided his apartment, he was shot and killed. From what little interaction I had with him, good riddance.
When I hear the door, I minimize the window on my laptop. Matteo enters, with only a towel around his waist, and drops his bag on Luke’s bed. I study his body—the sort of body that can make me forget the fucked-up shit I was just looking at. I’ve always appreciated how the guy’s sexy as hell, but between that night we shared and the bit of moisture glistening across his abs and chest, it’s hard not to salivate a little.
“Went back to my room to grab some spare clothes,” Matteo says, fishing through his stuff. “Almost didn’t because I’m not eager to see Luke or Brad just yet, but they weren’t there.”
I wonder if they’re in class, studying, working, or having a secret meeting.
Matteo pulls off his towel, exposing his ass and cock to me, and my body viscerally responds, my cock firming. He slides on a pair of trunks, which hug that ass perfectly. I envy those trunks, but I don’t get to enjoy them enough before he pulls on sweats and tosses on a shirt.
Before I saw what I had to do for the conjuring spell, I’d never considered messing around with a guy, but now I’m already wanting seconds with Matteo?
He plops down on the bed beside me, and I scoot over to make room.
I’m wondering why he came over here when he could have taken Luke’s bed, but then he says, “I’m sorry.”
I’d assumed he left so abruptly because deep down, he knew this was all my fault, but now I’m thrown. Then it hits me, maybe because of what I was just looking at before he returned. “Oh, that stuff Farras said? Again, that’s not on you. It really didn’t bother me. I don’t give a fuck if the guys know what we did…unless you didn’t want them to know.”
His expression twists up, and he looks at me like he’s offended I’d even suggest that. “That’s not what I meant at all, Alexei. Of course I’m sorry for what that guy said, but I don’t give a fuck if they know. Or if they knew just how good a time we had.” A smile plays across his lips. “There go those cheeks again.”
God, they’re so fucking warm.
“I meant I was sorry we couldn’t use those rituals to get you answers about your brother.”
“Oh…yeah.”
It’s a painful thought, one I haven’t allowed myself to process yet. But it’s there, looming in the back of my mind, this ache I’ve learned to live with, even if not coping too well. But as Matteo brings it up, it burns like fire in my chest.
He opens his mouth as if to say something, but his jaw hangs there for a moment as he studies my expression. He sits up, resting his back against the headboard. He looks lost in thought—maybe he’s still getting through that mindfuck from last night and I should leave him alone.
I look back at the pages of my book when he says, “Remember when I told you I didn’t know who my biological parents were?”
Again, he’s thrown me. I set my textbook aside and sit up with him. “Of course.”
His bangs are still damp from his shower, resting against his forehead as he stares straight ahead, this faraway look in his eyes. “I kept pressing my parents, but they wouldn’t tell me because of a contract they signed. My senior year in high school, they went away for a week for their anniversary, and I decided to play amateur sleuth and raid Mom’s office. Found some documents, which included my biological mother’s name and one of her old addresses. Used that information to track her down. I thought about reaching out on social media, which probably would have been the smarter move, but I had it in my head it’d be like a movie, and she’d be so thrilled to see me and know that her son was doing okay.”