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)
“It’s okay.” He poured confidence into his words, letting Hop know that he was safe now.
A pucker appeared between Hop’s brows.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Rafe traced Hop’s cheekbone to his ear with his thumb.
Hop shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.”
“You should have let it happen. Now he’s going to tell Malcolm I was here.”
“Let him. I don’t give a fuck.”
“Rafe.”
“What? Are you going to tell me you didn’t do that for me? Are you trying to convince yourself we’re still enemies?”
“Aren’t we?”
“No. Jesus, I told you. I’ve never been your enemy.”
“Then what are we?”
“I don’t know.”
“That clarifies everything.” He struggled again, but Rafe leaned closer.
“Stop,” he whispered into Hop’s ear. As orders went, it was a soft one, but Hop responded, tilting nearer as if he were waiting for more. That subtle movement told Rafe more about Hop than he’d figured out the whole time he’d been his unwilling guardian. How had he not realized sooner?
Rafe lowered his nose into Hop’s hair and gave in to something he’d been fantasizing about since the first glimpse.
Strawberries.
How fucking perfect.
He rested his palm against the cold brick and drew on all of his discipline. It didn’t help. Hop’s sweet scent surrounded him, infusing every breath with sensual possibility. And Christ, the way he obeyed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if he couldn’t do anything but give in to Rafe’s direction.
It was fucking temping.
“Wh-what are you doing?” There was so much vulnerability in that stutter. It burrowed inside and made a home deep in Rafe’s chest.
“Going mad.”
* * *
“Rafe?” Goosebumps broke out across Hop’s skin and it wasn’t because it was below zero.
Rafe was sniffing his hair.
“Shh.” A large palm smoothed down his arm.
Hop flinched before he could stop himself. Rafe pulled back, brows pursed. He looked at Hop’s arm. “Does that hurt?”
Hop avoided Rafe’s perceptive gaze.
“Answer me,” Rafe said.
When Rafe sounded like that, Hop couldn’t stop himself from giving in. “A little.”
“Seriously shoulda killed him.”
Hop’s head spun. Lust and pain, fear and expectation whipped through him typhoon style and he was left a shaky disoriented mess. He hated being a mess.
More than that, he despised that Rafe was there as a witness again.
It brought their past too close to their present. Why did Rafe always have to be the one to find him when he was at his lowest? Was there something written in the pages of fate that kept them tied together in this way? Had they each sinned in a previous life? Was this endless loop their punishment?
He didn’t want Rafe to look at him like he used to, as if Hop was just another problem that needed to be dealt with. Things had changed. He was stronger and smarter now. This situation wouldn’t paint a clear picture of his life, but it was all Rafe would see.
It was all he’d know.
If he was ever going to change things, Hop needed to start now. He wasn’t a victim and he could take care of himself. Without Rafe, he’d grown up, moved on, survived. There was no way he’d go back to the way things were before.
He shrugged out of Rafe’s touch. “I had it under control.”
“Yeah? Sure looked like that to me.” Sarcasm dripped off his words and pissed Hop off.
“Craig is nothing. You think I couldn’t handle him? Please. You don’t know anything about me or what I’ve gone through, no matter that you always seem to think you know better. You don’t. Why can’t you let me handle things on my own?” With every word, his voice rose.
Rafe took it all like the calm in a storm, which bothered Hop even more. Here they were again. It was more embarrassing than Craig pushing him to his knees.
Because he actually cared what Rafe thought of him.
Probably always had.
He was so fucking sick of this endless cycle. Thing was, no one was going to break him out of it. No, those chains were deep inside, keeping him anchored to his past. Only he had the key to break those fuckers.
Wasn’t it about time?
“Why the fuck do you even care whose dick I suck? Huh? It’s none of your business.”
“You’re wrong.” Rafe’s mouth crushed his.
Holy fuck.
Hop was so startled his hands landed on Rafe’s pecs, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his designer shirt. His eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened for more without any need for persuasion on Rafe’s part. It was a kiss that put all other kisses to shame.
Whiskey and cherries burst on his tongue like sinful fireworks, exploding lust bombs that obliterated Hop’s defenses as if they were paper. He was spinning, spinning, spinning and the only thing anchoring him to earth was Rafe’s delicious tongue. It swiped and teased and possessed every inch of Hop’s mouth.