Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
I glanced at the action. Full count. Man on third at the bottom of the fifth. Plenty of game left, but this at-bat mattered. The anticipation in the air was palpable. I felt it in my bones—except, the root of my tension was sitting beside me…cool as a fucking cucumber.
The batter stepped up, the pitcher eyed him warily, then looked away before coiling his muscles close, and unleashing the ball.
And just like that, time stood still. It was a do-or-die moment. Either the batter would strike out, walk to first, or hit a run. Hell, he might even hit a home run. Something would happen to change the game. There was no stopping the momentum. So many different outcomes were possible…if you took a chance.
I leaned in, my heart slamming against my rib cage, just as the batter hit the ball and the crowd erupted. Perfect timing.
I closed the distance and bam!…I bumped my nose on George’s forehead.
Fuck.
I jolted upright, pasting a cheery smile on my face as I searched my internal databank for a quick joke. The look in his eyes stopped me. Suddenly, we were back in the garage with our mouths fused as we humped each other like rabbits in heat. And if I was reading him correctly, he didn’t want any excuses. He wanted me.
“Wanna go?”
He licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah.”
I gathered our trash while George slipped his book and my iPad into his tote bag. We headed back to my truck in relative quiet, our arms brushing as we moved along the pathway to the parking lot. Crickets chirped above the hum of traffic from the freeway beyond the thick copse of trees. I blocked out the sensory static and coached myself to stay cool.
Not so simple. I didn’t feel like myself.
The swarm of butterflies in my chest and the Sahara in my mouth were new developments. I hadn’t realized it was possible to feel dizzy, nauseous, and buzzed just from walking next to someone. I think that was when I realized my sexual awakening had morphed into an intense crush.
George and I didn’t talk about anything special on the way to his place. We razzed the lame music streaming on my satellite radio and traded notes on a mutual acquaintance from high school who’d recently joined a grunge-rock cover band. That led to a brief discussion about plaid shirts, long hair, and people who didn’t want to grow up.
“My hair isn’t long, but since I’m wearing a plaid shirt and pondering drastic life changes, I probably shouldn’t talk,” I said as I turned onto his street and pulled up to the curb.
George smiled in the dark interior. “What are you pondering now?”
“I’m pondering how much I want to kiss you.”
“Then maybe you should,” he taunted in a breathy tone.
I didn’t hesitate. I cupped his neck and drew him close before roughly pressing my mouth to his, then releasing him with a hungry growl.
“You should go. I’m two seconds from whipping my cock out, and I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”
“There’s no need for that.”
“You have a better idea?” I hummed in between manic kisses, unbuckling my seat belt to get closer.
George tugged my T-shirt and slipped a cool hand underneath. “Come inside.”
I held his chin, panting as he met my gaze. “What about your roommates?”
“The house is dark. They won’t notice if we’re quiet.”
“What about taking it slow?”
“It’s too late for that.”
6
George
Aiden followed me closely along the path to the porch. He set his hands on my hips and kissed my neck while I drew my keys from my pocket. Of course, that led to a mini make-out session. One of us groaned aloud at the scrape of scruffy beard and the press of our hard-ons as we fought to get close. Okay, it was me. The sound brought me to my senses. I stepped out from his arms, carefully twisting the key in the lock and opening the door.
I paused at the threshold to listen for signs of life. It was dark as a tomb, but the coast was clear. Now we just had to navigate to the opposite side of the house.
One of the perks of claiming the bedroom off the dining room was that once my friends retired to their rooms upstairs, I had the whole downstairs to myself. The walls in this old house were thick, making it easy to tune out static noise on an upper level, especially behind closed doors. But the hardwood flooring was original and creaky enough to wake up the dead.
“It’s like a fucking crypt in here,” Aiden whispered.
True. The foyer was dark even in daylight. I made a ghoulish face, snickering when he returned the macabre expression times ten.
I relocked the door, then grappled for his wrist. When our fingers brushed, I held his hand instead and guided him through the maze of rooms till we reached my lair—which we suspected was originally used as an office or a butler’s pantry if the original occupants were fancy like that.