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)
“Oh my God. You’re...that was... Pretty sure I’m never thinking a full thought again.” Dylan laughed as he flopped against the sheets.
His satisfied grin did something to Apollo’s insides, made it so that he could only say, “Yeah.” Meanwhile, entire stanzas of poetry welled up in his throat, stupid words about how beautiful Dylan looked when he came apart, how him begging Apollo to let him come was his new favorite thing on the planet, how he wanted a tape of the sounds Dylan made, and how he couldn’t get enough of this.
Apollo grabbed a pillow, turning his face into it, unable to keep looking at Dylan’s shining face, unable to think about what all this meant. Because telling himself “it’s just sex” wasn’t working anymore, not when his soul kept singing at each of Dylan’s happy sighs and unguarded looks of pure delight.
Right then, as he turned toward his neighborhood, all Apollo wanted was another chance to earn one of those looks. He’d come up behind Dylan, kiss that sensitive place on the back of his neck, wrap him up close. Maybe drag him out to the backyard and the hot tub—after all that time shut up in Dylan’s room they needed some fresh air and water and he could practically taste the chlorine on Dylan’s skin already. Come on—
Girls. Heck. That was what he should have been thinking about on the drive back. The return of the girls. Because there was Marilyn’s and Pat’s SUV in his driveway as he pulled in. He tried to banish all his sexy thoughts as he took a few steadying breaths. No more fantasies. No more interludes. Back to real life.
“Baba!” Both girls raced for him as soon as he opened the door. They dragged him to the kitchen, where Dylan stood talking with Marilyn and Pat. He looked good in a T-shirt and pull-on shorts and bare feet and despite himself, Apollo’s thoughts flittered back to his fantasies. Like wanting to bury his face in that neck—
Oh crap. Was that beard burn on Dylan’s neck? Or maybe a very light hickey? No one’s fault but yours.
“We got you a present!” Sophia interrupted his internal freakout with a tug on his uniform.
“Something sweet,” Chloe added.
Please don’t be fudge. Please don’t be fudge. Please don’t be—
“Fudge.” Pat held out a little bag from the Disney fudge shop. “The girls picked out a few flavors for you.”
Neal had always been a hopeless chocoholic, and fudge was his particular weakness. They’d even served it at the wedding, and Marilyn and Pat were always bringing him new varieties to try. Apollo had always gamely taken a few bites, but the stuff was too sweet for him. And now? Now he couldn’t hardly stomach the sight without memories of Neal swamping him. He offered what he was sure was a strained smile as he accepted the bag.
I’m not Neal, he wanted to remind them, but of course he couldn’t. He owed the pair of them so much. He could stomach a little fudge. And guilt. Because however Marilyn had meant the dinner voucher at Christmas, she surely hadn’t intended that he spend his weekend wrapped up in Dylan like this. They’d be horrified.
Or maybe that’s just you. It was hard to say which was worse—his imagined reaction of his in-laws or his own growing remorse at how he’d been acting. Time to pull back. Get back to normal.
He lifted Sophia up, ignoring the twinge in his back that reminded him how well-used all his muscles were. “Thank you,” he said to the girls and their grandmothers.
“Hey, no fair! I want up too!” Chloe demanded.
“Here,” Dylan said, scooping her up when Apollo would have tried to lift both girls. “That better?”
No, things were most definitely not better. It felt too damn domestic, each holding a twin as they made small talk with Marilyn and Pat. It felt too much like they were a couple, splitting the burden of the kids. Marilyn started in on a story about waiting in line for a ride, and Dylan’s eyes met Apollo’s.
I had a ride too, his mischievous blue eyes said.
Behave, Apollo flashed back.
You like it when I don’t. Dylan smiled slyly. A weekend’s worth of meaning passed between them, a secret only they knew. But in Dylan’s gaze there was no guilt, no recriminations, no second-guessing, only warmth and affection.
Apollo looked away quickly. They couldn’t have such private moments. Not now, not ever. And damn if his gut didn’t twist, knowing that. Don’t start wanting what you don’t deserve.
* * *
God bless the Goodwill over on University. As the sewing machine’s whir filled the kitchen eating area, Dylan welcomed each stitch of distraction. He wasn’t surprised that Apollo had had to work late tonight, just like he wasn’t surprised that Apollo had spent all of yesterday back in avoidance mode as soon as his in-laws left. Goodbye sex fest, hello emotions as jumbled as the bargain bin at the Goodwill.