Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
I stripped down, turned off the light, and climbed into bed.
Me: Miss me?
Bougie: No, but clearly, you miss me.
I chuckled and then wanted to fuck with him.
Me: I can still taste you on my tongue.
Bougie: I bet you like that. Gonna think of me while you jerk off?
Me: Who says I’m not jerking off now?
Bougie: Really?
I laughed.
Me: I’m giving you shit. And then, because I was a fucking saint tonight or something, I added. No second thoughts?
Bougie: No.
Bougie: So you’re bi?
Well, I guessed we were doing this. We’d hooked up, and now we were texting.
Me: I guess. I say bi-interested because curious doesn’t really fit since I’ve been with a few guys. It’s not something I do often though, but yeah, basically it boils down to me being bi.
We messaged back and forth for the next hour. I wondered if Whitt was still sitting in that chair and if he was thinking about what he had done with me.
7
WHITT
My parents arrived home at the same time Candice brought over the Christmas dinner she’d ordered at my parents’ behest from their favorite steak house. As far as I knew, they didn’t do personal orders but had been making an exception for my parents for the last ten years.
Candice helped them get settled and then, unobtrusive as ever, slipped out once the food was on the dining table. We’d long stopped exchanging presents, so Christmas centered around eating together now.
We sat together at one end of the table—which had always felt weirdly sad to me instead of cozier—and dove in.
I got the cursory questions about the season, updates on investments they were looking into, and then my mom started probing deeper.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” The sharpness in her blue eyes never quite aligned with the soft femininity of her smile. I imagined a lot of people experienced that disconnect. She looked like a porcelain doll but was an absolute barracuda in a boardroom, as was my dad. They were a perfect match that way, something that never failed to trigger a hint of envy in me. They’d met when they were on the opposite sides of a merger in their early finance days. My mom had always joked that they’d negotiated themselves into marriage.
“Nope.” I speared another bite of roast, chewing slowly as the memory of my hand on Tucker’s head, his perfect lips around my cock, resurfaced. Just that split-second recall before I shoved the image away was enough to make my cock perk. “Too busy.”
“We find time for the things we love,” my mom chided, and I set down my fork, frustration bubbling in my chest.
“Do we?”
I felt my dad’s gaze swerve in my direction more than I saw it, but my mom’s smile didn’t falter.
“No hurry. You’ll find someone when the time is right. I’d love some more grandkids, though.” She sighed wistfully.
For what? To send cards to on holidays? Jesus. “Then talk to Elizabeth. I’m not having kids. I’d never see them. What’s the point?” I wondered if Tucker wanted kids, given all his siblings. Probably.
“Patrick.” The warning in my father’s voice was apparent, but I met his gaze evenly. He was a smart man, knew a subtle dig as well as my mom did, and I was being an outright ass. I didn’t hate my parents. Age, experience, and my own career provided me with a lot of insight, and what I understood was that they weren’t bad people; I was just a puzzle piece that hadn’t fit where they’d wanted me to in their jigsaw of life and still didn’t.
But I refused to back down. The night before with Tucker and lack of sleep had left me raw and irritable. “I’m just telling the truth.”
We ate the rest of dinner in silence, and then I returned to my room. So much for my respite. Now I was looking forward to my flight out tomorrow, looking forward to the playoffs and being back on the field where I always knew what to do. That was the great thing about sports. There were defined roles and rules. On the turf, I knew my place. It was more home to me than anywhere else.
I checked my phone—no messages—and then idly opened my old high school yearbook, trying to keep my mind off Tucker. What had happened last night was…embarrassing. And highly fucking satisfying and so erotic I’d jerked off again before bed thinking about it. This morning, too. I wanted to erase the night from existence and for it to happen again immediately, a feeling I’d never before experienced in my life. What the hell was wrong with me?
I flipped through the pages, checking out the pictures, reading the quotes under the pictures, then paused on some candid shots from senior year. In one, my junior and senior year girlfriend, Hannah, had her arm around my waist. Mine were draped both around her shoulders and the shoulders of the grinning guy next to me. Jenson. If you looked close enough, you could see the tight clutch of his fingers around my waist, opposite of Hannah’s. I sucked in a breath as I gazed at Gable High’s handsome quarterback. I remembered that photo being taken, the casual way he’d grabbed me and pulled me in, how Hannah had shuffled closer and made room for herself like she was tacking herself onto me. She’d joked relentlessly about our “bromance.” Hell, some of the guys on the team had, too.