Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“Oh no, we’re not going there.” He returned with my bottle plus a glass—and another drink for himself. Bottle too. We were doing this.
We were gonna reminisce and drink till we could reminisce and drink no more.
“How’s that my fault?” I exclaimed.
“I didn’t say it was, did I?”
“No, but you’re all accusation-like,” I huffed. Wait. “Accusatory? Accusing…ly?”
“Goodness,” he muttered through a chuckle. “Come on, we need to get some food in you. Otherwise, you’ll never—never sober up. Hell.” He rose from the couch and instantly had to steady himself on the armrest.
Naturally, I laughed my ass off. “That’s karma.”
“But I didn’t accuse you of anythin’,” he argued. “I didn’t say it was your fault we had so few family dinners. If anythin’, I’m blamin’ Walker.” He gestured for me to follow him, so I hauled myself off the couch too. “I think he wanted to keep you to himself. The one time I made a joke about us sharin’ you—mind you, this was less than a week after y’all’d met—he got madder than a wet hen.”
When their Tennessee accents came out to play, I was a happy man. Both Dean and Walker had such smooth, warm, alluring voices that drew people in like magnets.
Only thing hotter was Walker’s morning voice, when the accent was still there, along with gravel.
Hold up.
Share me?
Dean had joked about…
“Wait a minute. Was that a thing you used to do? Share subs?”
“It was a joke,” he reminded me as he opened the fridge. Just like the kitchen we’d had next door, this one was narrow before it opened up to a decently sized dining area. Big enough to host smaller dinner parties. “It’s happened once or twice—nothing we made a habit of.”
“Shame.” I leaned back against the counter and watched him bring out his poison. Two pizza boxes from Dominos.
It made me grin and shake my head.
Dean had a big sweet tooth, which sucked because he’d had diabetes from a young age, and he suppressed his urges to binge on chocolate and cake by keeping the greasiest food on the market in the fridge. He’d never really talked about it, but Walker had told me some downright cute stories. Dean was a night eater too. Which reminded me…
“You know I can still bring you leftovers from the restaurant, hon.” It was so easy to slip back into the brother-in-law role I’d had years ago. When I’d worked late at the restaurant, I’d sometimes bring home food for Dean that he could snack on in the middle of the night—that wouldn’t affect his blood sugar levels or wrap his heart in a layer of saturated fats.
Dean faced me again after placing four slices in the microwave. “You’re sweet, but it’s okay. Not to say I don’t miss havin’ you as a neighbor. You spoiled me.”
I smiled. “I loved taking care of both of you.”
He exhaled a little laugh and folded his arms over his chest. Then he just watched me for a beat, and it was unnerving. Dean knew more about me than my other friends at Mclean. Around them, I could deflect, deny, and hide. Somewhat, anyway. River, Reese, Colt, Lucas…they had enough suspicions. Greer too. And fine, Penelope and Lucian. All the men—and woman—who’d been there from the beginning. They were the kinky seven I’d started Mclean House with. I’d been the kid brother to everyone. And I still was. They looked after me, and I tried to do the same for them. All while keeping my distance.
With Dean, that hadn’t been an option. We’d been family.
“I spoke to Lucian the other day,” he revealed. “He tells me you haven’t been a submissive since Walker left. Is that true?”
Damn. Gossipy fucking Doms.
I tried to shrug it off. “I’ve bottomed and played the part plenty. Don’t forget I’m a switch.”
“Oh, you’re still pushin’ that lie? I see.”
Hey. I frowned and stood straighter. “Excuse me?”
He gave me a pointed look. “When were you ever a Dom?”
“Uh, with my current boyfriend?” Although, as I spoke the words, they rang false even to my own ears. My dominance was a shallow stream in comparison to my submission.
Dean studied me with a hint of skepticism and soft amusement. “Perhaps I’m wrong. I haven’t had the pleasure of studyin’ your play. I thought you were a submissive at heart and a very good Top for casual sessions.”
I averted my scowl to the floor, my stubborn streak kicking in. He was hitting the mark kinda perfectly there, wasn’t he? I did love to dominate cute subs. And I adored Lane, my feisty, bratty, submissive rebel. But I could never bring dominance into the everyday aspects of a relationship. I was Lane’s dominant Top in the sack, just like I was a Dom’s playful bottom during play with men more assertive and dominant than me. Because in a proper relationship where love was involved, the sub in me demanded much more attention. I fell in line the second I sensed a man’s power. Like with Walker, with Reese, with Colt, with Greer, with Dean… The list went on for miles.