Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He frowns. “Someone was being homophobic to Niko?”
I nod. “They said that they love his Instagram photos, but that he’ll never make it as a model if all of the women know he takes it up the ass.”
“For God’s sake, women love Niko.”
“They sure do. After that the guy was making some crass comments about ‘things gay men do,’ and when he said some heinous shit at the end, I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Who was this guy?” Weston asks, suddenly very serious.
“Don’t know. He had dark brown hair, a beard. Wish the fucker hadn’t run off after I decked him.”
“We can find out who that was. I’ll ask around. He wasn’t from one of the societies, right?”
“I’ve never seen him before.”
I wait for Wes to launch back into being pissed at me for starting a fight, but he doesn’t do it.
Apparently there are things that even the Sheriff can’t allow. He’s not upset at me for the punch anymore.
Instead he just cleans up everything in the bathroom, then quietly regards me, like he’s being cautious around a rabid dog.
The image of Wes as a child, bullied and ostracized in school, floats through my mind, and I can’t get it to go away.
“What?” he murmurs as he notices me staring.
“Just looking at you.”
He flips me off. “Why?”
“That wet shirt is starting to make you look awfully chilly, Wes,” I tell him before reaching out and giving his nipple a pinch.
He swats my hand away fast.
So I reach back and do it again on the other nipple and I’m shocked when he actually lets out a quick laugh.
His smile is like a tiny glimpse of sun after months of grey. It almost makes me wish I could get him to smile more, even if his scowl is starting to grow on me too.
He clutches his hand around my wrist but he doesn’t push my arm away this time, instead just holding it steady.
“Can’t believe you’re that mad I didn’t text you back,” he finally murmurs.
“Didn’t say I was mad. Just that I want you to unblock me.”
I pull at his wet shirt in a few places.
Teasing him, just a little.
He eyes me like a hawk as I fuck with him a little more and give him a squeeze on his hip.
And then he’s looking at my lips.
His gaze lingers for quite a while on my mouth.
“I’ll unblock you if you quit sending me that many stupid texts,” he finally says, his voice dropping into a lower register.
I can’t be imagining it. The way he’s looking at me stirs something hot in my chest. Like he’s radiating an electric field between the two of us, crackling and alive.
I see it in his eyes again and I realize that it’s not my imagination.
“Weston,” I say softly.
“What?” His voice is quiet, too.
I tread carefully, like I’m trying to win over a scared stray puppy.
“You want to kiss me.”
His eyes flare, almost imperceptibly.
I had meant for it to come out as a question. But it ended up sounding like a statement of obvious fact:
Of course you want to kiss me.
He falters, then gives me a practiced, disgusted glare. But I see a ruddy blush land at the base of his neck, this time.
“I’m allowed to be curious. I’ve had my lips on your cock, so why is it a big deal if I want them on your mouth?”
“I know,” I tell him. “If you are going to try to kiss me, though, at least do it out in the middle of the party? It would be very satisfying to make a whole lot of women jealous—”
He blinks, something shifting in his gaze.
Like the fear is claiming him again, and he’s scared of how much he’s admitted to me.
“You need dry clothes,” he says in a low tone. “Then you can head home.”
Not going to happen.
Please, just be real with me.
You don’t want me to head home at all.
“Sounds good,” I tell him, calling his bluff. He nods, then turns and pushes open the bathroom door, the sound of the party rushing in.
I follow him upstairs.
Neither of us say anything as we head up, and he leads me to a door that must be his room.
I hover in the doorway, waiting as he roots through a dresser drawer and finds clean sweatpants and a long-sleeve, folding them into a neat stack before coming back to hand them to me.
The current between us may as well be a fucking electrical storm in the air, filling the space between us like it’s alive.
“I’ll unblock you,” he says as he pulls out his phone, “because I know you need access to me so badly, Sev.”
Say what you fucking want, Wes.
Say it.
I know you feel this, too.
I refuse to budge. I’d rather edge him like this, knowing he’s just as hard as I am right now as he looks down at his phone screen.