Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Brigs Ferry Bay PD—And Puppies!
As I pass by Granger’s Home Décor, I see Addison in the window. I wave to her and she grins happily at me. It frustrates me that the two sisters are being given the cold shoulder. They’re good people and don’t deserve it. I’ll definitely be mentioning it at some point. After passing by a diner that smells so good my stomach grumbles, I make it to the Chamber of Commerce. Luckily, someone is pulling out of a spot and I whip into the space in front of the doors.
The drive here is less than five minutes, putting me at eight minutes late, which isn’t bad and normal for New York. Everyone’s always late in New York. I brace myself for another battering of the blistery wind.
Thunk.
The telltale sound of a car door hitting my vehicle has me cringing hard. With a groan, I hop out of my Rover, no longer worried about the cold, and round my vehicle to find the offender. A little old lady with shiny white, purple-tinged hair grins at me.
“Hello, young man,” she greets. “What a dapper looking fellow you are. The gals at the beauty shop will be impressed.”
“You, uh, hit my—”
“Come now, son,” she interrupts, taking my elbow in her frail hand. “Be a gentleman and walk an old lady to her hair appointment.”
Be friendly.
I can practically hear Shelly’s voice singing in my ear. It’s not this old lady’s fault the wind is so fucking terrible. With a frustrated sigh, I nod and slowly walk the woman next door to the beauty shop. Once we reach the front door, she makes a great show of grabbing me by the lapels of my coat, dragging me down to her short height, and planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Have a nice day, ma’am,” I grunt out. “Stay warm.”
She cackles. “You really are a tourist if you think anyone is warm on Beacon Island in January.”
I give her a nod and take a quick peek at my BVLGARI titanium and black watch. My friendliness has cost me five more minutes. Still, thirteen minutes late is good by New York standards.
If I can just get used to this fucking wind, I think I’m really going to like it here.
Before heading into the Chamber building, I glance at the dent in the side of my car. Fuck. The wind really will take some getting used to. That’s going to hurt every damn time I look at it.
Jaxson
We can’t wait forever.
Two more minutes is all I’m giving this guy before I start the meeting. Rude as hell to make a room full of people wait on your ass. Fucking New Yorker. I’m pissed and scowling until I hear Kian’s laughter at whatever Cato says to him. All anger dissipates as I freely roam my stare over Kian.
He and Cato shed their coats as soon as they arrived, both of them obsessed with fashion and looking amazing always. But I wasn’t interested in Cato’s outfit. No, I’ve been salivating over the way Kian’s white shirt is glued to him like a second skin, tucked into the narrow waist of his plaid pants. The mustard-yellow suspenders are what holds his pants up and fuck if that shit doesn’t get my dick hard. There was a time when I would’ve dragged him by the suspenders into his bedroom and peeled his clothes off with my teeth.
So. Long. Ago.
I don’t understand how Kian can be so unaffected. Even after all these years. I’m stuck remembering every sordid, hot moment we spent together learning our way around each other’s bodies. I remember the one and only time we had actual sex. How good it felt to sink into his body and claim him as mine. All the blowjobs in the back of my car. Every stolen kiss in the bathroom at school or behind the bleachers after a football game. Each hand job we traded during sleepovers at each other’s houses, though admittedly less happened at mine for fear of my parents finding out.
The good old days.
Our senior year of high school was spent sweaty, naked, and starving for each other. We were best friends who fell in love. The sexual compatibility between us was as natural as breathing. Everything was perfect between us.
Until it was time to come out of the closet.
“Why am I not enough for you?”
Fuck, I cried so hard when I denied him what he wanted. I shook my head at his offered rainbow sash he wanted to wear over his graduation gown, but he looped it around my neck anyway, a heartbroken expression on his handsome face as he asked me those words.
“Why am I not enough for you?”
He wanted everyone to know he was gay and in love. For me to step out with him and admit it to our peers and families. But I was horrified of ever telling a soul.