Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I had tunnel vision going into that locker room. Lost in the mindless beat thrumming through my head to a song I hadn’t yet written, I was taken aback when Soren turned to me as I approached.
His wide pecs and sculpted abs made my feet trip over themselves. I was assaulted with a sight my young and naïve eyes couldn’t handle.
Pfft, naïve.
I told my conscience to shut up.
Soren cocked his head. “Aren’t you …”
I forced my gaze to his face, but that was worse. Honey-colored eyes burned me from head to toe as he took me in. He looked horrified by what he found, but that couldn’t be right. I was gorgeous, damn it. And modest about it too.
“You were at the Rainbow Beds benefit,” he said.
My ears heard him, but my brain was still stumbling over the look of mortification it had seen not two seconds ago, so it didn’t register the actual words.
I managed to get out what I needed to. “Ollie and Lennon are going to Fever. Like … after this. With the rest of the gay brigade. You. Fever. Uhhh …” Way to make sentences, dude.
“Gay brigade?”
“Matt. Ollie. Damon. Lennon. You know … gay.” Get it together, Jet, I swear to Kurt Cobain. I shook my head. “They’re all going to Fever, and you’re invited.”
“Because I’m gay?” Soren asked, his lips curving in amusement.
“And because you lost the Cup and need to drown your sorrows.”
His face fell. His team had been one goal away from holding the Stanley Cup over their heads, and I was rubbing it in his face.
My bad.
Then I realized he wasn’t the only one who had heard me, and I was surrounded by copious amounts of dick. And not in the fun way. The other players didn’t even try to cover up, and being the gay guy in a room full of hot, naked, straight manly men, my feet found the momentum to get the hell outta there before I did something stupid like offer myself as some sort of towel boy.
But I’d done my job—I passed on the message for Soren to meet us at the newest gay club to hit the streets of New York. Whether or not he’d turn up was another issue. It would have nothing to do with my babbling if he didn’t come. Nope. Not at all. Not my fault, guys.
I caught up with the others outside the arena, and we took two cabs to Fever. When our group entered the bar, everyone turned their heads and checked us out … well, everyone else out. Being invisible was a side effect of hanging out with these guys—famous athletes who were around six foot or taller. I was average at five ten, but next to these guys, I was the shorty of the group. Because of the invisibility, the bouncer didn’t bother carding me when we all came in, so I went straight to the bar for drinks.
I drank. I danced. I got lost in the beat and sweaty bodies around me. And the minute Soren stepped through the doors, the energy in the room shifted. My pulse thrummed stronger in my veins, trying to compete with the loud bass coming from the speakers. Even though there was a sea of men surrounding me at any given moment, my gaze went straight to his.
From that moment on, his gaze burned into me everywhere I went. To the bar to get drinks. On the dance floor with Ollie. Flirting with a cute guy near the hallway to the bathrooms. Everywhere I went, he was watching. Not that I was complaining—I just didn’t know why.
His bright eyes stood out, even in the dark, and I noticed whenever a guy would say anything to me, a line creased Soren’s forehead.
Older guys weren’t my thing. In fact, I spent a lot of my time ribbing my brother-in-law about being old, and he was only twenty-seven. This Soren guy was at least that, if not older, and I didn’t need a daddy in my life to deal with my daddy issues, fuckyouverymuch, Mom and Dad.
Still, the high it gave me knowing he was watching me made me want to put on a show for him.
I waded my way through the crowded bar and back onto the dance floor. It took less than five seconds for someone to approach and start grinding on me.
Before I moved to New York, I’d had little experience with guys. I couldn’t deny I was gay, but the sex was … awkward. It made me question why people liked it so much. It was possible that I only ever hooked up with other inexperienced closeted guys like me, so neither of us knew what we were doing.
I had faith I’d eventually find the type of love my brother Matt had with his husband, but until then I’d have fun.