Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I wanted you, too,” Ford replied after Dana had stopped. “I probably always did. But I didn’t want any problems.”
“Problems?” Dana frowned.
“Not like that. You had a lot of options. Meaning… fuck, how do I say this? I’m not good with explaining my feelings.” Ford uttered the last three words like they left a bad taste in his mouth, and Dana chuckled at him. He understood that.
“I think I know what you’re saying.” Dana rubbed the coarse hairs on his chin. “You didn’t want a tramp.”
Ford reared up at that. “No! I’d never call you that. Not even in my own head. Damnit. You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Ford gritted his teeth. “I felt like why would you want to waste time with someone as old as me when you could have anyone you wanted. I think Brian told me you were seeing a model or big movie star last year.”
“She wasn’t a model or a star.” Dana pffted. “Marcia was a non-speaking extra in a movie filmed here six years ago. That doesn’t exactly qualify as a big star. And regardless of her or anyone else, if you’d given me any indication that I had a chance, Ford, I would’ve focused on you and only you.”
Ford was quiet for a long time and Dana wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Was he supposed to wait and be celibate while he pined for his straight work partner? He’d done what any red-blooded male would do, he’d tried to numb the pain of longing and rejection by being with someone else. “Ford, don’t go there, okay. Can we just look at the here and now?”
“Can we?” Ford hissed. “Because you literally just broke up with your girlfriend less than two hours ago, now you’re here, telling me you’ve wanted me and only me all along.”
“I haven’t dated another man,” Dana snapped back.
“I don’t care!” Ford barked.
Dana bolted up off the couch. He doesn’t care. He went for his hoodie. He wouldn’t do this.
“Where are you going?” Ford yelled, his strong voice sending chills down Dana’s spine. He heard Ford following him.
“Home! Did you really invite me over here to tell me I’m not good enough for you? To insult me? Son of a bitch,” Dana fussed, yanking to right his clothes. He felt so foolish and it was the second time tonight. “I’m not gonna let you do this to me. I know I’m a good guy. I wanted you, but you didn’t fuckin’ want me, man. You acted like an ass any time I tried to show interest. Now you thumb your damn nose at me for not staying home night after night alone, wishing you’d suddenly knock on my door.”
Ford did what was starting to be a habit and blocked Dana from opening the door.
“That shit’s not sexy right now… move, Ford.” Dana bared his teeth. He was angry at the pain of another rejection. He was so scared moisture would form in his eyes, and there was no way he could get emotional in front of this man. But he was just so tired of hearing he wasn’t good enough, especially from men. Men he looked up to and admired… who never admired him back. It hurt deeply.
“Whoa. You’re taking this the wrong way.” Ford glared at him.
“There’s not too many other ways to take that.”
“It’s so easy for you to run.” Ford gripped Dana’s shoulder when he tried to move his arm from holding the door.
“Let go.” Dana was quick when he knocked Ford’s arm off him and shoved him back a few feet. The startled look he got from Ford morphed from anger to lust in seconds and Dana got nervous and excited just as fast.
Ford stepped back into Dana’s space and didn’t stop until he had him pinned against the door. He clasped Dana’s wrists and slammed them over his head, holding him there. “I’m not saying you’re not good enough. I’m asking: am I enough?”
They were both breathing hard in each other’s face, their eyes dancing over their blushed skin. It was hard to think with all those muscles pressing into him, but he’d heard what Ford said.
“Yes, Ford. You always were enough.”
As if in slow motion, Dana saw when Ford made his final decision. Releasing the tight grip on his wrists, Ford’s hands eased down Dana’s long, tattooed arms to his shoulders. Thick fingers rested on his neck as Ford leaned in, his beard scraping against Dana’s sensitive skin, until he finally felt firm, smooth lips touch his. He fought to stay upright while Ford tentatively brushed kisses over his mouth and chin.
“I haven’t kissed in over twenty years,” Ford said into Dana’s parted mouth.
Dana had a death grip on Ford’s waist, to one, help him stay vertical, and two: because he needed to know the man was there in reality and he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re good at it.”