Mr. Important (Honeybridge #2) Read Online Lucy Lennox

Categories Genre: Billionaire, Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Honeybridge Series by Lucy Lennox
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
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“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Still have that extra bedroom upstairs,” Don reminded me. “You’re welcome to it.”

I shook my head. “Thanks anyway, but we have to get on the road early. I’ve got a vendor in Omaha I’m meeting up with next. If I’m asleep on the bus, McGee can simply start driving.”

After thanking our hosts again profusely, I slipped out the front door and made my way across the snow-dusted driveway to the welcoming warmth of the bus. McGee was just shrugging on a coat.

“Gotta go, boss. My friend’s waiting for me down the driveway. I’ll be back around six, and we’ll get on the road,” he said softly.

I’d forgotten his plans to watch a pay-per-view fight with a friend nearby, but I was glad he was getting out to have some fun. After watching him jog off the bus, I closed the door behind him and made my way to the back, pointedly ignoring Reagan’s bunk on my way past it.

The man had been tempting me for days, and I’d managed to stand firm. But after our time on the mountain yesterday pretending I wasn’t his boss, after I’d told him things I’d never spoken aloud to anyone else and he’d given me kindness and compassion in return, I’d felt the barriers I’d tried to erect between us crumbling, one after another. Tonight, buzzed and tired and riding the high of an excellent day, I had no defenses left at all.

My room was still and quiet. Only the low hum of the bus’s electrical system filled the small space around me. The scent of Reagan’s aftershave was faint, but it reached me, even in here. Or maybe it was simply imprinted in my nose after so much time spent together. Like I carried him with me everywhere now.

I walked to the opposite side of the room and slid between the sheets with a grateful groan, then turned on my side to stretch one arm out under the opposite pillow… and encountered warm, firm muscle.

I opened my eyes and squinted through the darkness. From this close, the scent of his faded aftershave was clearer, and I could just make out the outline of his messy, sun-kissed hair and prominent chin.

The breath punched out of me. Reagan.

I stared at him, begging my eyes to do a better job of seeing in the darkness.

“Th-thatcher?” His voice was a sleep-rough whisper, but he managed to lever up on one elbow. “Hey. You want your bed back?”

I sucked in a breath and felt the last barrier crumble. “No,” I breathed, moving closer and reaching out to cup his cheek, feeling the prickle of stubble along my palm. “That’s not what I want.”

He turned his face toward me as I inched closer. I’d had just enough alcohol and sleep deprivation to pretend this one night—like our last one night—wouldn’t count. That I could have him here like this, naked and willing, sleepy and submissive, and we could go back to our easy routine in the morning.

Reagan made a small noise in his throat. A noise of need, of desire, of confusion… I wasn’t sure. I only knew that it carried with it barbed hooks that dug deep into my solar plexus and reeled me inevitably closer to him.

“Let me have you,” I murmured, afraid speaking at full volume might awaken him enough to push me away.

“Yes.” The sound was deep and hoarse. It carried through my chest and down to my balls. I closed the remaining distance between us and finally, finally, took his mouth in mine.

The taste of him brought exquisite relief and immense excitement. The combination made me feel an even stronger buzz than the one I’d entered the bus with. Reagan was sleepy-soft and pliant under my hands. I shoved the covers down and found the hem of his T-shirt before rucking it up to run my hand along his abs and chest.

His skin was warm, and the hair on his chest brushed softly against my fingertips. The skin around his nipples puckered when the air hit it, or maybe it was my touch that set them off. He let out a sound of pleasure, and I swallowed it down, hungry for more of his lips and tongue.

His hands forked into my hair, pulling me closer until I was practically on top of him. As soon as I felt the hard ridge of his erection against my hip, I couldn’t pretend politeness anymore. I was too desperate for him, too frantic with the need to bury myself in his body.

“Clothes off,” I said, pulling away enough to strip my own underwear off and toss them over the side of the bed. Reagan must have done the same because when I leaned back over him, he was blessedly bare, displaying all that tanned skin and the wickedly sexy tattoo I’d been dying to see again. “C’mere.”


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