Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
He couldn’t say the same for them. David had disappeared for months after last New Year’s, and Rig had a tendency to get distracted with his hobbies, his sexual conquests and his ever-growing number of relatives. Neither of them needed him the way he needed them. It would be so easy for those two to drift away if Rory didn’t play his cards right.
Which meant trying to keep his mouth shut.
“We’re okay, Rig,” Rory assured him, trying to sound sincere. “I’m okay.”
Eventually, I won’t be lying.
“Professor Kelley wasn’t so sure.”
Fuck me. What the hell had Declan said to him? A sick feeling of dread landed like a lump in his stomach as he realized how much he’d given away to Jen and her sexy triad. Everything. After he’d gotten sick, he’d opened his mouth again and instead of hot saucy eggs or regurgitated liquor, truth came pouring out. It was so much worse than Brady’s experience with the rum. So much worse than alcohol poisoning.
And now Rory’s turn at Drunk Confessional was already biting him in the ass.
He wasn’t over-share guy. He wasn’t even regular-share guy, unless it was sexual in nature and might make someone uncomfortable. Some things weren’t anybody’s business, especially the kind of feelings that could be used against you. Now Jennifer and her two dicks had all the cards because apparently hot sauce was a fucking truth serum as well as a hangover cure.
Rory wasn’t sure when it would get out, but soon everyone would know why he’d started his cleanse—which was the topic Jen was most interested in pursuing. They’d know that after David asked for space, Rory had spent months overindulging in meaningless sex to the point of gluttony. No finesse, no gameplay, just desperate distraction with any warm and willing body/bodies. He’d become the insensitive, shallow embodiment of Sodom and Gomorrah that Elder had always accused him of being. All because he couldn’t let himself think about the fact that he might have lost David for good.
Rory told them how gradually the three friends had started meeting up again after Rig had reached out. Drinks here and there, dinners under Nonna Gina’s protective eye. He told them how he’d decided to never let anyone bring up the Mistletoe Meltdown for fear of rocking their fragile new boat in spite of David’s initial frustration and Rig’s continued consternation.
Rory knew the silence was stopping them from moving completely past it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. He hadn’t wanted the autopsy. Didn’t want to think about why David took a break from their friendship. He just wanted his friends—and his life—back.
He told Jen all of that, and even mentioned that his cleanse was sort of his penance for crossing the line with David. Something to remind him about what was really important. Who was really important.
They’d thought he was making one kiss too big a deal.
Just one kiss. And instead of the harmless, biweekly fantasy sessions he’d had for years, sex with David had become Rory’s daily obsession. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Wanting it. Dying for it. And then he couldn’t stop hating himself for pushing David away with the desire he couldn’t control.
A desire his cleanse was doing absolutely nothing to rein in now.
He turned another knob in the shower and felt pressured water hit his body from so many different directions his hard-on came back with a vengeance. And so did Rig’s words.
“Professor Kelley likes to hear himself talk. It’s why he does it for a living. I’m fine. Better than fine at the moment. You should seriously try this after I’m done. Maybe I need to be a tycoon instead of a first responder. I could get used to this.”
“We could always find you a sugar daddy.”
“Daddies and I are a bad mix. I’m more a ‘tipsy soccer player who doesn’t know he’s a bottom’ kind of guy.”
He could hear Rig’s snort through the curtain of water and steam. “Maybe you should change your type, Finn. You work too hard, you eat like shit… Caregiver or not, you need a keeper.”
Rory washed his hair and reveled in the spray. “And you sound more like your grandmother every day. She tells me that on a weekly basis. Of course, she says it with kisses, cookies and leftovers, so I always assumed she was auditioning for the job.”
“You can’t steal my Nonna, asshole.” Rig’s arm appeared in front of him, turning off the water abruptly. “You’re clean. Now get out here so I can say what I need to.”
Rory flinched as a plush towel whacked him in the face and laughed in surprise. “I’m the one with the hangover, right?” He rubbed himself down and wrapped the towel around his neck, his erection clearly visible. “The one who had his keys nabbed? The guy who got surprised by the BFF BJ bombshell last night? Why are you in a mood?”