Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83039 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Closer, closer. Forget the lyrics of the actual song playing, my brain played a tune just for him, beckoning him ever nearer. Most tall, built dudes only wanted to lead. A tussle for the top that I wanted no part of. Instead, I loved this: an easy back-and-forth, me leading, then him, then me again.
Sway, sway. My internal music turned even more seductive. I always loved dancing, but this was sublime. No rigid rule structure where he took control simply because he was older or I seized it because I was slightly bigger. Instead, we danced as equals, the age difference fading into the background along with the rest of the bar, only him and me and the music—a pulsing, driving club mix.
At first, we danced together but barely touched, strangers feeling each other out. Then I crowded into his space, and he met me easily, crowding me right back until our bodies brushed with every beat.
Touch me, touch me. My head music shifted as need colored my every movement. The lieutenant’s torso was every bit as firm as it looked, and every point of contact was muscled and strong. Our thighs rubbed and our hands tangled. His hands were big, solid as the rest of him, and I wanted them everywhere. Each new spot we touched—thighs, hands, chests—was a fresh discovery, a lightbulb flipping on until my whole being lit up like a disco ball.
As one song bled into the next, I circled him, wrapping him up from behind. And fuck, so good, he melted against me. His head tipped back, a bead of sweat running down his neck, and I chased it with my mouth. It wasn’t a kiss precisely, but I dragged my scruff against his bare skin until he hissed.
“I have a great idea.” I ground against him, letting him feel how hard he made me, loving when he pushed back to meet my motions. “Let’s go crash the other bachelor party?”
“The other…the movie watching?” His forehead wrinkled like he’d expected a different suggestion, but keeping him off balance was part of my grand plan.
“Yep. Ditch our crews, go find some PJs…”
“Pajamas are hardly what I’m thinking about right now.” He gave a strained laugh.
“Tell me,” I demanded. “Or better yet, show me.”
His eyes sparked with wicked mischief that made him look younger. “There’s limits to what we can get away with on the dance floor.”
“Damn. Right. Screw movie night.” I ground more deliberately against him. “Tell me you have a hotel room close.”
“I shouldn’t abandon my friends.” He kept moving with me, eyes closed, hair brushing against the side of my face.
“I know. Me either. But I wanna. Let’s be bad together.”
“You’re a terrible influence. I’m usually known as the solid friend. Everyone’s favorite designated driver, middle-of-the-night rescuer, and crisis solver.”
“Me too. Shocker, I know. But I’m the good friend.”
“Rebound?” He rolled my name around like he was testing it, considering. “Yeah, I guess you would like to help your crew.”
“I’m all in on being a helping hand. But right now, the only one I want to help is you. How about it, Lieutenant Butter?” My hands on his sides, I spun him so we were face-to-face again, so close our breath mingled. He smelled like clean sweat and an expensive, musky aftershave that was out of my price range. Out of my league, but damn, I wanted.
“I…” He inhaled sharply as I lined us up for more grinding, bodies pressed tightly together. “Damn.”
Whatever he’d been about to say got lost in a mutual moan at how fucking amazingly we fit together.
“Or I could kiss you right here. You want that?”
Chapter Three
Monroe
Bossy guys, technically still young enough to be considered a twink, didn’t usually do it for me. But something about the terribly nicknamed Rebound got my motor humming on every cylinder. I’d never been the bad friend before, the one ditching everyone to get laid in what would quite clearly be a one-and-done thing. But God, I was tempted.
So tempted.
“Maybe I should kiss you,” I countered. I’d loved dancing with him, the way we melded styles until neither of us was leading, only two guys dancing, perfectly matched like our brains were plugged into the same outlet.
“You should.” He maneuvered us to the far edge of the dance floor, a line of speakers against a wall near a hallway leading to the back of the bar. “Luckily for you, I’m a very flexible guy.”
“I noticed.” We were mere millimeters apart and so very clearly going to kiss, but I liked this drawing out, the anticipation continuing to gather as we bantered.
“What else did you notice?”
“Your smile. You’ve got a great one. And your ass.” I threw that compliment in to avoid sounding too sentimental about his smile. And he clearly worked out. He knew he had a world-class ass. No sense in acting like I hadn’t appreciated his hard work. “Smile. Ass. Eyes. All pretty amazing.”