Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
There was a part of me that considered drinking one of everything to help myself relax, but I didn’t need that, I didn’t want it. Tonight was supposed to be about me…me and Beau.
We were in a back corner. It took me a few minutes to notice Beau, Lincoln, Rush, Sawyer, and Camden were almost in a circle around me, like they were protecting me…like they had my back.
The more we talked and laughed, the more I liked them. The more I enjoyed their company, the more I loosened up. Eventually, I wasn’t in a gay bar listening to pop music with my boyfriend’s friends. I was just in a bar, having fun with my boyfriend and our friends.
And it felt good…it felt right. I wanted to hold on to it with both hands, squeeze it tight, live it.
Beau stumbled forward when a guy accidentally ran into him. He had white-blond hair, eyeliner, and a gorgeous smile. “Sorry…oh…hey.” He grinned up at Beau, and I recognized the smile. “That was an accident, but I can’t say I’m sorry for it. Holy shit, you’re sexy.”
Beau laughed it off, apparently not sensing the rapid beat of my heart. The guy was just…so fucking free. He saw Beau, wanted him, and went for it. Beau would never have to hide with a guy like that.
“Thanks, but I have a boyfriend.” Beau winked at him.
“He can join too,” Blondy replied.
“Why don’t you come dance with me? I’m better-looking than he is anyway,” Camden told him. The guy obviously wasn’t picky, and shrugged, disappearing through the crowd with Camden.
I couldn’t say exactly what it was that made me do it—jealousy, pride, the fact that I’d told three people and it had gone well all three times, or just plain want, but I reached out, hooked my finger through the belt loop of Beau’s jeans, and tugged him toward me.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh,” I replied. I leaned against the wall, and he stood between my legs. He was technically blocking me from prying eyes, but I still felt a surge of adrenaline at touching him like this in public. “I’m holding my boyfriend.”
“I think I just swooned,” Lincoln said.
“You don’t have to do this, Ash. You don’t owe me anything.”
No, I didn’t owe him anything, but I owed it to myself…and I wanted this. Wanted him. I’m safe here, I told myself before pushing the cap up on my head so I could kiss him more easily. I nodded, and Beau grinned, reading exactly what I wanted.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my lips. It went zero to sixty in no time flat. I felt fucking invincible—like I was flying.
I held on to his hips, and Beau rubbed against me, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept my mouth, and fuck, there was nothing in the world as good as feeling Beau against me.
“Fuck, Ash. Sort of feel like banging on my chest here,” Beau said into my neck. “Like I can stand on the bar and scream to everyone that you’re mine.”
“That might draw attention.”
“Can I kiss you again?”
“I’m already trying to figure out what’s taking you so long.”
His mouth came down hard and fast on mine. The kiss was filled with urgent hunger and need. I suddenly wished we weren’t in a bar anymore so I could get on my knees for him. There had never been a time I thought I would feel okay with wanting that, with doing it, but I was. I so fucking was.
Just when I lowered my hands to his ass, a light flashed from the other side of my closed eyes.
“What the fuck?” Lincoln said.
“Give me that shit,” Rush added. And I knew, I fucking knew without opening my eyes, what was happening. Beau jerked away from me.
There was a group of men, all standing around with cameras and phones aimed at me, at us, taking photos, recording. Not guys I would have seen here any other night, but reporters.
Rush grabbed one of them, pulled the camera from his hands. All hell broke loose after that—people looking, taking their own pictures, because they knew something was going on. Shoving their way closer.
“Let’s go,” Beau said, but I was already moving with him through the people. I looked back to see Rush, Sawyer, Lincoln, and Camden trying to head people off.
It didn’t matter, though. I knew it fucking didn’t. Bile rose in my throat, and my vision swam, but I didn’t know if it was because I’d been caught, or because of my reaction to it. It shouldn’t matter. Why the fuck did it matter?
The second I burst from the door of the club and onto the sidewalk, there were more cameras, mics shoved in my face.
“Ashton Carmichael, are you gay?”
“What were you doing in a gay bar?”