Pretty Perfect Read online Riley Hart, Christina Lee (Boys in Makeup #1)

Categories Genre: Contemporary, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Boys in Makeup Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
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“This is where you live?” he asked as he rounded the corner.

“Uh, yeah.” I felt my jaw tighten as he glanced around the sparse room. It wasn’t much, but it was mine, and after losing almost everything because of my prior relationship, I wasn’t about to feel any more shame. Still, I couldn’t help the excuse tumbling from my mouth. “I know it’s not—”

“I think it’s cool to be so close to your sister and niece,” he interjected.

Should I correct him, or let him think I lived here on purpose? Less was definitely more where Jesse was concerned.

“Nice bed,” he remarked, homing in on the one recent purchase I was most proud of. Unless he was poking fun or using some sort of innuendo. But then he rushed over to the small shelf in the corner of the room. “Holy shit, you have an album collection?”

My pulse throbbed. Bree and I had been raised by my mother and grandmother. My mother had inherited the record player from my late grandfather, and it was the only thing my dickhead boyfriend hadn’t stolen from me because, luckily, it had been stored in a large box in the back of my closet.

When I moved in with Bree, I’d decided to display the contents after we’d combed through the memories together, imagining what our late mother would’ve been like as a child. She’d died when Bree and I were in high school, so it was nice to have a vintage keepsake from her.

“Uh, yeah, it was my grandfather’s, and I’ve been collecting vinyl ever since I inherited it. Mostly the classics,” I explained as he pored over the titles. Some were from my grandparents’ generation, which was really special to have.

“Oh my God. You have Love Me Tender by Elvis Presley?” he nearly squealed as he pulled the album from the sleeve. “I was just practicing the single from this album for the Underground.”

“Guess that makes sense,” I replied, stepping up and glancing at the list of songs on the back of the album. “I think it was released in 1956 or thereabouts.”

His eyes took on a dreamy state as he stared off in the distance. Then he cleared his throat and crooned a few lines in that deep, throaty voice that was still a shock to my system.

I grew motionless as I watched him, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the long column of his throat as his lush lips enunciated each syllable. When he trailed off, then giggled at himself, the spell was broken, and I blinked rapidly, trying to get my thoughts in order. Jesus Christ.

“You better stop looking at me like that, or I’ll get the wrong idea.”

“Looking at you how?” I asked around a thick throat.

“Like you’re half in love with me or something,” he teased as he slid the album back on the shelf, his cheeks as rosy pink as his lip gloss.

That snapped me right out of whatever the hell trance I was under. “Please. You wish.” Fuck, why was I so out of sorts from Jesse being in my private space?

“Maybe I do.” Back in flirty mode, he batted his eyelashes as he lifted his hand to skim beneath my jaw. When his fingers trailed flirtatiously down the front of my shirt, his knuckles brushing so damned close to my waistband, I shivered. Goddamn it. “I mean, what would it be like to have Mr. Grumpy Pants all smitten with you? I bet not a lot of—oopf.”

I clutched his hand and flipped him toward the wall, already way too aroused from having his hands on me, and his singing that fucking song, and who knew what else.

“You like being a cock tease?” I glided my fingers over his thigh and up toward his rib cage, feeling him tremble.

“If it makes you want to fuck me again,” he replied in a husky tone, “I’m all for it.”

“Yeah?” I placed my lips right against his ear and swiped the lobe with my tongue. “That what you want? Are you hard for me now?”

He angled his head toward my shoulder and groaned. “How could I not be when you talk like that?” He gripped my fingers and placed my hand right against his bulging crotch.

Shit, I swore under my breath as my own cock stiffened against his hip. And then a blinding need took over. I gripped him through the fabric while I sucked the back of his neck. When he thrust into my palm, I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and shoved my hand inside. His skin was hot, his slit slick with precome. As soon as my hand curved around his shaft, he sighed in relief.

“Yes,” he murmured as his forehead rested against the wall.

I swiped my thumb across the head, then stroked him root to tip, my only goal to make him come apart in my arms. Why I wanted that so badly, I didn’t know.


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