Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Rafe’s pulse kicked up at that idea. Hell, no.
Rafe wouldn’t let Craig near Hop.
Even as he made that promise, Craig handed the bottle to a friend and headed to the stairs. Everything slowed to a crawl. The laser beams seemed to pause midway through their programmed course and the music was drowned out by Rafe’s own heartbeat.
No. The denial thundered through every cell.
Before he’d fully processed the situation, Rafe was halfway across the catwalk.
He had to intercept Craig.
Because if he hadn’t already recognized Hop then he was after something else, something that made Rafe’s blood boil. And, yes, Craig was an idiot, but he did have a good memory. He’d figure out who Hop was as soon as he got close enough. After that it wouldn’t take long for Craig to spread the news. And all of Rafe’s careful planning would die a silent death.
Rafe couldn’t take that risk.
* * *
Somehow, no matter how much he tried, Hop always ended up in the same place.
It was like the path of his life was a run-down carousel wobbling round and round and round. Tonight, all he’d wanted to do was dance. Like it had from the beginning, the Switch atmosphere called to him. Two performances hadn’t been enough. He’d wanted to lap it up like honey. He’d wanted to be right in the fucking middle of it.
He’d needed it to kill every other thought in his stubborn delusional head.
Yet here he was, dancing with another random piece of ass. Problem was, Hop had absolutely zero interest in the possibilities reflected in the guy’s hooded eyes. And even worse, the dude was oblivious, grinding and humping with moves seductive enough to have earned a blow job on any other night.
It’d been weeks since he’d hooked up with anyone other than his dildo. That thing had seen more action this past week than it had the entire previous year. All thanks to one brooding club owner.
Hop kind of hated himself for still being attracted to Rafe.
He was such a fucking pushover.
Maybe if he fucked someone random, his idiotic crush would fade. Swaying to the hard electronic beat of the house and rap fusion this DJ preferred, Hop closed his eyes and tried to feel even a spark of desire for his dance partner. Imagining himself pounded from behind, anonymous and forgotten, didn’t fill him with the usual fire.
Instead, it left him feeling cold.
The guy nuzzled Hop’s neck below his ear. “Want to go somewhere private?”
No, he really, really didn’t. “Sorry, babe, not feeling it tonight.” With a practiced move, he spun and ducked out of the cage of arms and straight into a chilling blast from the past.
“Hello, Hopkins.” Craig Miller’s voice overflowed with gratification. A crazy smile stretched across his flushed face, and his eyes were unnaturally bright in the low light.
Like he’d been splashed with a bucket of ice water right to his face, Hop gasped in shock and tried to retreat. Except Craig seized Hop’s shoulders and held him in place so hard Hop knew there’d be bruises to cover up tomorrow. Motherfucker.
He could get away if he tried, but it meant drawing attention. It meant violence. It meant pissing off Malcolm Lockwood’s best friend. It meant causing trouble and he was trying so fucking hard to be good.
Hop’s gaze rose to the deepest darkness beyond the multiple moving lights hanging from the metal joists above. Rafe needed him to keep this contained. And stupidly, the instinct to protect Rafe overruled his own self-preservation.
Every muscle relaxed and he leaned in enough to loosen Craig’s grip. “Long time no see, Miller.”
That weird grin stretched wide. “Shit, you’ve gone total sissy, I see.” His laugh was manic. “Wait until I tell Malcolm. Oh fuck, his face, I can’t wait to see it.”
Hop pasted on a negligent smirk and shrugged. “You could, but then we wouldn’t be able to have our special reunion.” Their past relationship was Craig’s dirty little secret.
Once upon a time, Hop had done everything he could to get closer to his secret family. Including getting jobs where Malcolm spent his money and seducing his friends.
Craig’s unkempt brows rose and his already red cheeks grew even darker. He licked his lips again but this time it was a conscious motion. “The package may have changed, but you’re still the same cock slut.”
Hop wanted to say keep talking, and I’ll forget about keeping things low key and knock your teeth out. But he didn’t. Gaining control of the situation was more important than his ego. Besides, he wasn’t so fragile that some careless words from this asshole would hurt more than a mosquito bite.
With a flirty toss of his hair, Hop sidled close and whispered into Craig’s ear, “I still remember the taste of your come.”
So fucking predictable, Craig took the bait, dragging Hop’s hips close with a pathetic grunt. Hop hissed and pulled away.