No Good Mitchell Read Online Riley Hart, Devon McCormack

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 437(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
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“Hey, whoa. That is totally untrue.”

He glared at me.

“We had a bi friend, and it was his birthday, which is why we went to a bar.”

“What was it called?”

“I couldn’t even tell you. It was over on Glenwood Avenue. Doubt it’s even still there.”

He rolled his eyes overdramatically. “That’s horrible that you have to make up fake gay bars to seem cool.”

“To be honest, we didn’t realize it was a gay bar. Just looked fun.”

“There wasn’t a disproportionate number of guys?”

“Yeah, but half the straight bars we went to were like that. Most of us didn’t know, but I’m pretty sure my friend knew what he was getting us into.”

He busted out laughing. “Well, now you’re learning just how fun these gay boys can be.”

He moved closer, his hand sliding around my waist as he pulled our hips together. It was fucking effortless to find the rhythm with him, which shouldn’t have surprised me, not when we kissed the way we did.

“Technically, I think I’m just learning how much fun one gay boy can be.”

“Just doing my best to represent. You never told me you were interested in going to Peru, though.”

I nearly stopped dancing, and my response seemed to catch him off guard…nearly as much as I’d been caught off guard by his remark.

“How did you know I wanted to go?”

“I guessed by the look in your eyes and your overly enthusiastic questions about Machu Picchu when Travis and Gary were talking about their trip. Clearly, I was right.”

Of course he was right, but the discomfort rising from my gut to my chest made me want to change the subject.

“What’s this song?” I asked.

He eyed my curiously before listening.

While he was trying to figure it out, I grinded up on him, hoping to distract him from his line of questions. It seemed to work. He busted some moves, and I made sure to show him that, despite where I was from, I knew how to dance. And after proving that I could drop it low just as well as he could, we both got to laughing. Hell, it might have been the hardest I’d ever laughed.

We kissed once more, both of us seeming to get lost in the moment. It was nice to let loose, to forget about all the stress and Big Daddy’s worries, and to feel Cohen’s lips against mine, without shame or fear, in public—the same as the first time we’d kissed.

It was different now, though.

It had been hot before, it had felt amazing, but now, after getting to know this special man who was Cohen Mitchell, there was something else there too.

I hooked my arms around him, my hand navigating to the back of his head. He pulled away for a moment, looking between my lips and my eyes. I was waiting for his usual jokes or some quip, but he maintained this intense expression before letting me draw him in once again for another kiss.

And another…and another.

His hand slid down my back, cupping my ass firmly.

I couldn’t help smiling. “Somebody’s curious.”

“More than curious,” he confessed.

“It’s okay. I’m curious too.” There wasn’t a joke there. I was deadly serious, and as I felt his lips curling upward against my cheek, I could tell by the way he kissed me again that he knew it.

His grip on my ass firmed even more as I licked up the middle of his lips. He bit gently at my chin, then nibbled my bottom lip.

Just like with every kiss, and our dance moves, there was something innate about this chemistry we had. Like wolves who’d stumbled upon each other in the forest, exploring, testing one another before wrestling and fucking for hours.

Where the hell did that come from?

I stumbled at my wayward thought and felt an arm at my side. I hardly had a chance to turn before a cold sensation crawled down my side.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” a guy beside me said.

It took me a moment to notice the drink running down the side of my tee and jeans. I cursed, but seeing the guilty expression on the guy’s face, quickly assured him it was fine, before telling Cohen, “I’ll fetch some napkins.”

Cohen took my hand, coming with me as we navigated the bar. A spot opened up, but there weren’t any napkins close to us, so we had to travel farther down the bar. I started to grab a few from the holder, when I noticed a familiar face a few feet away, near the corner of the bar.

“Lee?!”

His eyes popped open, then shifted toward the wall, where I saw the back of my other giant-ass brother, who had his arm around a guy.

“The fuck? Dwain?” I approached him, still in disbelief of what I was seeing.

He didn’t seem to hear me—too busy making out—so I grabbed his shoulder. “Dwain!”


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