Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Board meeting,” I manage. “And one of the main cams glitched up, so the camera people came from Sacramento.”
“No sneaking around while people fix the cameras,” he says softly.
I nod.
He shifts so he’s sitting by me. It’s a big tub, but it’s still a tight squeeze with our shoulders. We both stretch our legs out. He wraps an arm around my lower back and folds me to his chest. Then he leans back against the tub’s side.
“What do you do usually?” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my hair. “If you have a shit day?”
When I don’t answer, his long fingers stroke my shoulder. “You come home and have some of that whiskey?”
I shake my head.
“Go see someone?” he asks softly.
“What do you think?” The words come out sharper than I meant them.
“Doesn’t matter. I just want to picture you without me.”
I let my gaze lose its focus on the white of the tub. “Why?” I whisper.
“So when I’m thinking about you…after…I’ll know what to picture.” His voice is steady, but I feel his chest rise and fall. “You’re the reason I started praying.”
Heat suffuses my chest and throat. Then it blazes in my cheeks. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t really get into that stuff when I was younger. Too pissed at the world. Then I met you and…” He inhales, blows the breath out. “I don’t know.” His voice is thick. “Couldn’t talk to you.” His cheek presses against my head. “Figured all that’s left was praying.”
I can’t swallow. I try a few times. A low-level buzz moves through my body, making my limbs heavy.
I stand. “Let’s get out.”
Part II
12
Vance
The gel is cold on my back. It’s so quiet in the bedroom, I can hear him pull the sticky pads off their clear backing. Thin wires brush my skin as he presses the small, round pads onto my back and shoulders. A spring creaks as he shifts his weight.
He didn’t like what I said—about thinking of him after I leave. Or maybe it was the praying part that got him. He rushed out of the bath and disappeared downstairs to get the little TENS machine. When he got back, he pulled a table over to the bed, set the thing up, and told me to lie on my stomach. Since then, he hasn’t spoken.
Damn Skywalker.
I thought of saying something, but now that he’s got me hooked up to this shock machine, I think I’ll wait.
“You ever done this?”
I shake my head, then realize my face is pressed into a pillow—so he can’t see. “No.”
“I had one in college. Rugby.”
Is that his way of reassuring me that he’s not going to electrocute me dead? I let out a long breath.
“I’m turning it on now. Starting low. Tell me when you feel it.”
My back and shoulders start to tingle weirdly. The sensation picks up till it doesn’t feel good.
“Feel it.”
“Uncomfortable?”
“A little.”
He turns it down.
“Still feel it?”
“Yeah.” It’s more creepy-crawly now.
“Good?”
“Yeah.” I guess.
He lies on his back beside me. For the longest time, he’s still and quiet. I feel hollow-numb from drinking, and a little helpless with this zapper making my back muscles twitch.
It seems fucking unfair how it’s never easy. And it’s never gonna be. My throat tightens, and I lock my jaw as my eyes ache a little.
That’s when he scoots closer. I feel his breath near my shoulder, feel his warm face brush the cool skin of my arm, which I’ve got raised up beside my head. His lips brush my bicep.
“Feeling good?”
I nod. Liar.
His hand sifts through my hair. “Vance?” It’s whispered against my skin.
“Yeah?”
He drapes one of his legs over mine, traces circles on my lower back. He’s so close he’s partway wrapped around me. That’s where he stays until he gets back up and turns the machine off. He wipes the gel away and stretches out beside me again.
This time, he wraps me against him. With our faces close together, his hand pushes my hair back. His forehead touches mine as his eyes close. Then his warm mouth takes mine, kissing deep and slow and hard—as if what he can’t say with words is being said with his mouth.
We break apart sometime later, panting. His eyes are hot on mine, his lips curving. His hands press my hair back again. One palm smooths over my beard scruff. He grips my jaw. For a second, his eyelids shut.
“You don’t know what you do to me.”
I reply with my mouth. It feels like I don’t do anything to you, you fucker. I press his shoulders into the mattress and crawl atop him, rub his dick through his briefs. He bites my nipple and flips me over so he’s on top, smiling before kissing my throat.
I bring his hand to my erection.
“Been a long, hard day.” I chuckle, and he rubs his palm over me.