Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He also hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off his face.
Eleven inches.
Tate chuckled. He had a damn good cock, if he said so himself, but eleven inches was a bit generous.
As the miles passed and he grew closer to Swan, his enthusiasm morphed into nerves. This truck, with the company’s logo, would be sitting in Liam’s parking lot while he was inside fucking the man.
Someone would see. Swan was small enough that whoever spotted him could be a friend, a coworker, or a family member. He’d be asked about it. By now, almost everyone in town knew that a dance studio would be opening in the next few weeks. They also knew the owner to be a gay man.
Randy would hear.
Yo, T, what the fuck were you doing back at the studio in the middle of the afternoon? Heard the truck was there for more than thirty minutes. What gives?
By the time he pulled into the parking lot outside the studio, his palms were sweaty, and his pulse jumped in his neck.
He should leave.
His stomach churned.
His chest tightened.
A figure appeared in the large front window of the studio.
Liam.
He stood in the studio’s front room, watching, waiting. Talking with him today had been fun. More than fun. He’d made Tate smile and laugh, which he did not do much of. He’d also made him hard. No, he hadn’t had a queer friend before. Aside from sneaky hookups in the club bathroom or back alley, he hadn’t had any interaction with queer people. If any lived in Swan, they kept their mouths shut like Tate. And he hadn’t tried to make friends with anyone he’d met at the club. What the fuck would he tell Randy when his brother asked why he was going for drinks with a queer guy?
No, it wasn’t worth the risk to his identity.
But this? Another chance to touch Liam?
That just might be worth it.
He sat there clenching the steering wheel for much too long, considering the clock ticked down to his next job. He wanted to walk in with his head high, grab the sexy man watching him, and kiss the hell out of him. What a normal thing to do—see someone he was attracted to and wanted him and act on it. How many times had he seen Randy kiss Whitney over the years? How many times had Randy swatted her ass or made a raunchy joke in front of their friends? How often did she hop on his back and tease him about taking her for a ride?
Countless.
They didn’t think twice.
All Tate did was think about keeping his attraction to someone from showing. It consumed him. And now there was a man he wanted to fuck enough he was considering taking the risk of being caught.
Go in or leave?
If he puked at Liam’s feet, the decision would be made for him.
“Fuck.”
Unsmiling, Liam pushed away from the windows and stalked across the wooden floor. The way he moved, even when walking, revealed his years of dance training. He flowed, muscles in perfect harmony like a sleek jungle cat.
Christ, the man was turning Tate poetic.
When he disappeared into the locker room they would soon be renovating, Tate’s heart sank.
He’d blown it.
“Fuck.” He slammed the heel of his palm against the steering wheel. “What the fuck do you expect?” he whispered. “Sitting on your ass like a damn wuss.”
Disappointment settled heavily on his shoulders as he reached for the key to restart the ignition. Jerking off alone would feel like a mockery, highlighting his inability to man up and take what he wanted.
What Liam freely offered.
The sight of Liam walking back out of the locker room froze his hand on the key.
“Holy shit.” Tate nearly swallowed his tongue.
Liam had shed his shirt and swapped his stylish jeans for light gray dance tights. The way they cupped his muscular ass and molded to his firm thighs should be fucking illegal. The erection, which had waned with Tate’s freak-out, surged back to life so fast it made him lightheaded.
Without so much as a glance at the parking lot, Liam grabbed the wooden bar along the wall of mirrors. Tate clutched the steering wheel and leaned forward. His heart lodged in his throat. He didn’t dare blink as Liam lifted his leg to the bar and executed a series of stretches that made Tate sweat.
Fuck, the man could bend.
His imagination ran wild, thinking of all the ways they could put that flexibility to good use.
After loosening up each limb and his spine in ways that had Tate panting, Liam moved to the center of the room. This time, he looked straight at Tate.
“Fuck me,” Tate whispered. He was so damn hard. Instead of soft denim encasing his dick, his jeans felt like a steel cage imprisoning his erection.
Liam winked.
Tate’s cock jumped.