Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Fuck off.”
“I already did all over your face.” I wink at him. “Now answer the question.”
His cheeks flame red-hot, and I don’t know if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Honestly, I don’t care either way. He’s beautiful to look at in all of his moods. Still looking forward to the one of ecstasy when I’m buried deep inside him.
“Stop smirking,” he growls.
“Tell me,” I say, ignoring his words, “do you act out because you’re a bored rich kid? Are you seeking attention? Did Mommy and Daddy not care enough?”
He drops his fork to his plate with a clatter. “My parents are dead, you sick fuck.”
“Good. I’m learning my limits with you. Talking about your parents is a hard limit. Moving on. Why are you vandalizing the businesses of Brigs Ferry Bay? Do you want to go to prison?”
His eyes close, and his sharp jawline ticks as the muscle tightens and loosens. I can tell he’s losing patience, but I’m not like his coddling friends or caring siblings. I’m going to pull all of his bullshit out into the open so we can look at it together. Then, we can move forward and get down to what we both want.
Each other.
“Why do you do it?” I say again, my tone softer. “I want to understand.”
“So you can use it against me, Officer?”
I polish off the rest of my breakfast and then carry my plate to the sink. After rinsing it off, I come to stand behind his chair. Gently, I rest my palms on his shoulders. He’s tense as hell. I massage my fingers into his muscles, doing my best to work the stress out of them. Eventually, he relaxes, his head falling forward and giving in to my ministrations.
“I know you see me as some bad guy,” I say gruffly, “and that may be true, but I’m the kind of brand you need. You’re looking for an outlet. An escape. Am I right?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“I was you nearly two decades ago. The same person. Hating everyone and everything. I was suffocating.”
“Suffocating?”
“Yeah. I just needed to breathe. I wanted understanding.”
He leans back, dropping his head back so he can look up at me. “I had a life before. In New York. I used to be happy.”
“You’re not happy now.” Not a question but a statement. “You can be.”
“How?” he croaks out, his voice cracking. “Nothing gets better. Everything keeps getting worse.”
“Play with me,” I offer. “It’ll be the perfect distraction.”
He tugs away from my hold and stands. After depositing his plate in the sink, he grabs the counter, staring out the window. I stand behind him, pressing my body against his. His breath hitches. I tug at his earlobe with my teeth.
“Think about it.”
“Why me?” he whispers.
“Something about you calls to me, Callan. I can’t get you out of my head. I want to do so many things with you—to you. You can’t tell me you don’t feel this pull, too.”
I kiss along the side of his neck, sucking softly on his flesh. He whimpers, tilting his head to the side, offering me more of his creamy skin.
“Are you going to turn me in for tagging the bank?” he asks, his voice resigned.
“We already worked that out. I’m not telling anyone. Ned’s a fucking idiot who deserved it anyway.”
He turns in my hold to face me. Pain flashes in his eyes. “He spit on me.”
The smile on my face is wiped off at the reminder. Rather than letting him know his friend told me, I frown. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Yesterday, while I visited my friend Jarrett, Ned showed up. Spit on my coat. Called me some horrible names.” His chin quivers just once, but it’s enough to break my heart in two. “Why me? Why did his son come after me? Why did those guys at Blur come after me? Why is Ned coming after me? What did I do?”
Fat tears well in his questioning eyes. As though I really have the answers. I wish I did. I may not have the answers to his questions, but I’ll be the solution to his problems.
“I’m going to make sure you feel safe in this town,” I vow, my growled promise more of a reverberation that can be felt humming between us than actual words. “I don’t care if I have to arrest every goddamn homophobic asshole I run across. I’ll get my point across.”
“Just for me? You really are insane. A stalker.”
I stroke my thumb over his cheek. “Not just for you. For everyone like us. For the eighteen-year-old me. For your brother and my boss. I’m fucking tired of the hateful bullshit.”
“You’ll go to war with all the old fuckers in Brigs Ferry Bay?”
“Hell yeah, I will. But, instead of spray paint on buildings, I come with a more effective arsenal. A badge, a gun, and access to a jail cell. I’m going to make this place safe.”