Pretty Sweet Read online Riley Hart, Christina Lee (Boys in Makeup #2)

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Boys in Makeup Series by Riley Hart
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
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And I was suddenly assaulted by the memory of my father being kicked out of a bar for disorderly conduct. Mom and I had pulled into the parking lot, and the owner, who knew my father well by then, had given us the choice of calling the cops or taking him home to sober up. I wanted his ass to sit in a jail cell overnight, but Mom had vetoed me, hoping to avoid involvement from the police and his possible retaliation the following day. He was already passed out in the back seat by the time the decision was made. Thinking about how he’d ruined so many of our fucking nights had me rattled. I turned away from the disturbance, not wanting this to be another one.

Once inside, I worked my way through the packed bar, my gaze landing on Skylar on one of the risers, shirtless and in tight shorts. He gyrated his hips before bending over and shaking his ass toward his many admirers below. I smirked. Definitely sex-positive, like Seth had said. And hell, picturing Seth shaking his cute little butt at me the other night while I played back there would only serve to make my jeans uncomfortable, so I kept moving.

This time when I got interested looks, I didn’t shy away like last time. I held my head high and smiled without giving anyone the wrong idea. There was only one person on my mind tonight.

I gave the password at the door to the bouncer with the purple Mohawk—I’d made sure to look for it on Instagram—and he let me pass through. Once again, I was struck by the understated atmosphere, which immediately calmed my racing pulse.

Scanning the tables, which were near capacity, I strode toward a recently vacated barstool and sank down, grateful for a place to sit while I waited for the show to begin.

“Hey there,” Dane said, placing a bar napkin in front of me. “Nice to see you. Beer?”

I nodded. “Please.”

He served me, and we made small talk. I took a couple of hearty sips, then sat back and surveyed my surroundings. Dane moved down the bar to speak to an older couple I remembered from my last visit, and the guys beside me were discussing what type of men they enjoyed hooking up with. I sympathized when one of them complained about never finding anything meaningful, and smirked when his friend asked why he would possibly want anything more than good sex.

I was a bisexual man in a gay club, and embracing this side of myself felt good. But the conversations weren’t any different than ones I’d heard from my straight, single friends. Suppose we were all looking for a connection in one way or another, even if it was only for one night.

Speaking of connections, Jesse and Seth appeared from the back room to claps and wolf whistles, and as they walked onto the small stage, I nearly swallowed my tongue.

“Holy shit,” I said a bit too loudly, and the guy next to me murmured in agreement as he gawked at the both of them.

Seth was wearing a cropped jacket that exposed his smooth stomach, shorts that showed off his toned thighs, a fedora, and a full face of makeup. And there was a different air about him tonight as well. Poised and confident and sensual all wrapped in one nice package. Hot damn. He was free to wear that getup for me anytime.

When our eyes met across the room, Seth dipped his head as if momentarily losing himself again but then seemed to regain his composure and lifted his chin up high. And damn if I didn’t love seeing this side of him.

Jesse looked great too in a similarly designed ensemble, but I couldn’t seem to drag my gaze away from Seth long enough to notice the finer details. Dane sure had, though, as he stood perfectly still watching them, until his barback nudged him to snap out of it.

The guys on the stools next to me went on about how hot they looked, especially when Jesse started crooning his first Sinatra song. His voice was superb, the music sublime, but the men wouldn’t shut up long enough to let me get into the music.

“I think I need a closer look,” one of the guys said, making the motion to get up.

His friend’s hand landed on his arm as he told him to pipe down and stay seated. “Just enjoy the show.”

Usually that sort of ogling wouldn’t have bothered me much—I heard it from Tad and Brett at bars all the time—but listening to it being said so blatantly about the guy I was in love with? It got under my skin.

“That’s my man you’re talking about,” Dane said with a wink as he approached the two for drink orders and most likely overheard something they’d said.


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