Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
It doesn’t feel wrong or twisted or sick.
It feels reckless…but right.
Canyon
Our dads are on us the second we walk in the door. Word spread like wildfire about the accident. If they hadn’t seen us on the news in the background of a broadcast covering it, they would be a lot more worried. Though we’re okay, it still doesn’t stop them from drilling us with questions.
“Who was it?” Dad asks at the same time Quinn says, “Do they know who died?”
I cut my eyes to Alis. Just as he was at practice, he’s withdrawn and lost inside his head. If we were alone, I’d kiss him and bring him back to the now. But we’re not. Kissing him, or showing any sort of affection toward him, would be blatantly obvious. And as much as I’ve wanted to hurt Dad, I can’t do it through Alis. Not exploit the very thing I promised him I wouldn’t.
Why?
Because things have changed.
I’ve changed.
I fill them in on everything I know, which isn’t much. The police didn’t release the person’s name, but liquor bottles were found in the front seat of the car. It was pretty evident the person was shitfaced.
Dad and Quinn are too busy discussing how awful the situation is to notice Alis is sinking further into himself with every passing second. I’m desperate to get him alone because he’s unraveling fast.
“Can we take a raincheck on my birthday dinner?” I ask, interrupting their conversation. “We’re both a little shaken up over the accident.”
Dad nods, pride shining in his eyes that makes me want to simultaneously shy away from and run toward. “Understandable. I’ll order in barbeque from Stoney’s.”
My heart twists painfully inside my chest. I’m reminded of any time Mom didn’t feel like cooking and Dad would save the day by ordering Stoney’s. It’s such a small, stupid memory, but it punches hard enough to knock the breath out of me.
While Dad orders over the phone and Quinn grabs his wallet so they can pick it up, I motion for Alis to head upstairs. He goes straight to his room, but rather than dropping his bag and violin case in the doorway like a normal human would, he stows them both neatly away in his closet. Because I’m not OCD as fuck, I do drop my bag in the doorway and walk over to him, more eager to hold him than anything else.
“You’re sweaty,” he complains as he clings to my shirt, inhaling me. “You smell like ass.”
I smile, kissing the top of his head. “And you’re into that shit, which is why you’re sniffing me like I’m a snack.”
Our playfulness fades as Alis sighs heavily, sinking into my arms as though I can hold him up forever. I’m in no hurry to let him go, that’s for damn sure.
“Come on. Let’s shower,” I murmur, giving his ass a smack.
“I already showered.”
“And I dirtied you up.” Stepping back, I take his face in my hands, tilting his head up so I can peer into his captivating mahogany eyes. “Let me take care of you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs hard as he swallows, and his nostrils flare. He’s barely holding his shit together. It makes me want to do it for him. Just gather him up and keep him close, whispering assurances until we both believe everything will be okay.
Because it will be.
It has to be.
I pull away from Alis to grab more clothes from my room and check to make sure our dads left to pick up the food. Once it’s clear, I follow the sound of the shower running. Alis stands under the steamy spray, shoulders hunched and staring at the ground. Even though I give him shit about being smaller than me, he’s always seemed larger than life. Bigger and better. Right now, he’s so fragile. It hurts seeing him so wrecked. All I want to do is fix it.
Stripping out of my sweaty clothes, I join him in the shower. Since he’s seemingly lost, I grab a bar of soap to lather him up. It pulls him out of his trance, once again bringing his magnetic eyes to mine. With the water plastering his white hair to his forehead and droplets running down his face, he’s downright lickable. I pause in my efforts to clean him to press my lips to his wet ones. Our kiss is soft. I try to convey to him with my lips and tongue that I’ll make it better. Somehow. I don’t know how to undo his mood, but I want to try. I’m determined to do so.
A small moan escapes him, tossing a match on my desire for him. Fire licks a path down my spine, into my balls, and down the length of my dick as it thickens. One of his hands wraps around my cock, squeezing and stroking. I nip at his bottom lip, unable to keep from thrusting into his hand.