Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 428(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“You always do this. You can’t hurt someone over and over, then try to make up for it later. That doesn’t make it okay.”
Now instead of weekends away, I’d tried to make up for my behavior with blowjobs.
I held on to the moment until the sun sat higher in the sky, all the while thinking about Sam. What was his story? I could figure it out if I wanted, go sit at the diner and strike up a conversation with someone and mention Sam. I had no doubt people would talk despite my being an outsider, but then, I wanted to keep my secrets, and it didn’t feel right to try and sneakily discover Sam’s.
I collected eggs, fed and took care of the animals. Milked the cows and mucked out the stalls of my two horses. My whole childhood had been spent doing the same kind of work. I knew it by heart, even though I hadn’t done it in years, not until I moved to North Carolina.
Later that day, I was in the stables when I heard gravel crunching beneath tires. I knew it was him. It was Wednesday, and on Monday I’d ordered books with two-day shipping.
I grabbed my T-shirt from where I’d discarded it and wiped the sweat off my face, my pulse beating a little too hard against my skin.
He had just reached the porch when he saw me. He smiled that big, happy smile that shielded him from the world. Looked at me with those piercing blue eyes, honey-colored hair slightly sweaty against his forehead. When I reached him, he leaned against the stair railing, mischief in his gaze. “You know, if you wanted to see me, all you had to do is text.”
My pulse throbbed now, threatening to explode. I’d known exactly what would happen when I placed the order, even if I lied to myself about why. “I didn’t want to see you. I wanted my package.”
He shook it. “Or do you want my package?” Sam didn’t give me time to reply before asking, “What’s in here?”
“Sex toys,” I answered, watching his cheeks turn the same pink of the sunrise from earlier.
“Really?”
I couldn’t stop my laugh. “No, but I can get some if you want.”
“Tease.” Sam’s gaze started at the top of my head and took a slow journey down my body, his stare so hot, I felt it against my skin. “God, you’re so good-lookin’. I can’t believe I get to have sex with you. Is it Friday yet?”
I rolled my eyes, but heat rushed to my groin because fuck, I wanted him too. “You’re the horniest man I’ve ever met.” Not really, but it felt good to tease him, to let myself play the part of the man I used to be.
“I can’t help it. I’ve had more orgasms in the past two weeks than any other two-week period in my life…I think. When I first started jerkin’ off to gay porn, I rubbed my dick raw more than once. It was even worse when I started experimenting with puttin’ stuff in my ass. Whew! You have no idea how many things I tried up there. But this is the most orgasms I’ve ever had with another person.”
“Jesus,” I hissed out, flexing my fingers to keep from grabbing him and making him come.
He looked down, gaze snagging on my cock. “I got you hard.”
“No shit.”
“We’re not allowed to play when it’s not the weekend, huh?”
“No.” The word was sticky in my mouth. “Go back to work, Sam.”
“Oh, that was kinda hot. You bein’ bossy like that.”
“Only kinda?” I cocked a brow.
Sam set the box on the steps and walked over to me. He stopped, gave me that soft, playful grin. “I like it when you forget to be brooding and flirt with me.” I…had forgotten, hadn’t I? Sam laughed, his breath puffing out against my cheek. “You’re literally frownin’ now, like you just realized I’m right, and lookie there, you’re all scowly.”
I put space between us, hating the fact that he was right, that he so easily worked his way beneath my skin. “Don’t you have a job to do?”
“You?”
“Your other job.”
“Unfortunately.” Sam stepped around me, headed back for the vehicle, then stopped and said, “Hey, Emerson?”
“What now?” I turned to him, pretending to be irritated, when really, I just wanted to know what he would say next.
“Why do golfers wear two pairs of pants?”
I grinned. “In case they get a hole in one?”
“Damn it!” He laughed, got in the vehicle, and drove away. I stood there watching him the whole time.
Friday morning I went into town for breakfast, something I rarely did. I didn’t like people, and they were everywhere, all up in your business in a way they hadn’t been in the city.
“Look who’s here. We don’t see you out very often,” the hostess said, then pointed to the long counter with a few open seats. “Since you’re alone, you can sit in one of those.”