Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Keep me company,” Ben drawled from beneath his cap.
“I suppose we’re lucky you didn’t bring last night’s trick to breakfast,” Apollo said in a low voice as he took the chair next to Ben. “You need me to make you my old morning-after cure?”
“Nah. Although, I’m thinking you could use one.” Matching Apollo’s near-whisper, Ben’s tone was far more teasing than his hungover countenance.
“What do you mean? I’m weaning myself off the pain pills and muscle relaxers—”
“Not talking about that. I meant I’m thinking someone else got lucky last night besides me.”
“I’m thinking the Brass Rail pickled your last remaining brain cells,” Apollo said firmly.
“Nope. I’ve still got eyes. Have you decided which method of death you want Dustin to use when he gets a whiff of—”
“Sssh.” Apollo made a warning noise. Across the room, the other three were busy assembling food and didn’t seem to be paying him and Ben any attention, but Apollo still felt like they were shouting in a church. “There’s nothing going on. Nothing.”
“Ha. Maybe there’s not yet, but you guys are like a live M67—just waiting to go boom. And the shrapnel’s going to take out someone’s eye.”
“He’s a great kid—” Apollo didn’t sound particularly convincing, even to his own ears, and Ben interrupted him with a snort.
“Then you won’t mind if I invite him—”
“Watch it.”
“Yeah. Nothing.” Ben’s laugh sliced like a knife. “You keep telling yourself that. And I was going to say, my soccer team’s playing a charity exhibition game next week and we’re down a striker. Thought I’d see if Dylan wanted to join us, jealous beast.”
“You can ask him,” Apollo said, not able to keep back the grudging tone.
“Gee, thanks.” Ben shook his head. “Look, I’m not saying you shouldn’t have fun. God knows that if anyone needs fun, it’s you. But don’t be stupid. Just—”
“Food!” Maddox called from the kitchen, gesturing at the buffet they’d laid out on the island. “And I even made a Bloody Mary mix for the walking dead over there.”
“Bless you.” Ben gave Apollo a warning look as he pushed up from the table.
“Apollo? Need me to make you a plate?” Dylan asked.
Ben gave a knowing smirk as he passed Apollo. “Don’t be stupid,” he repeated in a low growl, holding out a hand.
“I’ve got it.” Ignoring the hand as well as his protesting back muscles, Apollo helped his own damn self up.
Don’t be stupid. That warning turned his food to mortar dust, made him do nothing more than grit his teeth when Ben convinced Dylan to help out his team. Later, he was careful to avoid Dylan after everyone left, taking the girls for a long swim in the backyard. Dylan helped matters by disappearing with his work friends for a few hours in the afternoon. But sure enough after their early wakeup and long time in the pool, the girls almost fell asleep in their dinner.
They were both sound asleep before Apollo finished the story. He crept from the room, shutting their door carefully. Don’t be stupid. He needed an early night too, needed to conserve his strength if he was going to try for work this week. Even as he lectured himself, his footsteps slowed as he made his way down the hall, pausing right by Dylan’s room.
The door was open—something new and an invitation even Apollo’s rusty brain couldn’t miss. Inside Dylan lay shirtless on the bed, watching something on his tablet.
Walk on by, Apollo ordered his feet, which didn’t listen. Once was madness, but a repeat would be hard to pass off as an accident. We could just watch a show, Apollo tried bargaining with himself even as he knew that if he crossed that threshold, nothing was going to be the same again. Don’t be stupid.
Too late. Dylan looked up from his show, pulled out his earbuds and gave him a slow smile. Reason fled in the face of that warmth. Give me stupid. Might be to his doom, but his feet only knew one direction. He stepped forward.
Chapter Twelve
Apollo had led countless missions into hostile territory, survived firefights, and negotiated his way out of more than one seemingly no-win scenario. And never once had his pulse thrummed like it did when he stepped into Dylan’s doorway.
“You busy?”
“You know I’m not.” Dylan smiled at him, but Apollo stayed rooted right inside the room, unable to return the smile. Dylan got off the bed and closed the door. “Should I lock it?”
“Yeah. No. I don’t know.” His voice, usually something he could rely on without fail, was little more than a whisper. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Luckily for both of us, I’ve got some ideas.” Dylan pressed Apollo back against the door, ghosting his lips across Apollo’s. Simply from that small contact, heat licked at Apollo’s nerve endings, made his senses crackle. Seemingly on their own, his arms pulled Dylan closer, until the kiss deepened, Dylan’s tongue fucking its way into Apollo’s mouth with an insistent rhythm.