Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Hmm. If I haven’t mentioned it today, I want you to know I think you’re a very cool human.”
I smiled and stepped closer. “Thank you. So are you.”
“No, I’m ordinary. I’m…thin ice.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ve always equated life and people to ice. Rough, smooth, frosty, thick…solid.” Smitty gave a bashful shrug and glided his hand in front of him as if skimming water. “If this whole lake froze in winter, only ten to fifteen percent would be solid enough to skate on. The rest would be too thin. It’s the majority, the masses, the normal, nothing special crowd that makes up most of the planet. We take the easy way out, we look for loopholes and make deals with the devil. We have talent, but we don’t always test it.”
“O-kay…”
“I guess I’m trying to say, I know I’m part of the problem here. I don’t blame you for being wary of me, Bry. I would be too. I talk a big game, but the fact is…I’m not out. I hate that you have to lie to explain me.”
I linked our pinky fingers and swallowed hard. “Even if you were out, I’m not sure I’d know how this works—dating and being…together. It’s been so long and I’m so—”
“Shh.” Smitty cupped my chin and brushed his thumb over my bottom lip. “No need to explain. I get it. This makes me nervous too.”
The raw honesty in his voice cracked at the hard shell I’d shielded my heart with for years. And in the smallest fissure, I felt something pull at me, shifting and rearranging spaces inside me I’d thought had been dead and buried. A tiny ray of light and hope broke through the barrier, and I just didn’t have it in me to fight it.
I slanted my mouth over Smitty’s and kissed him as if my life depended on it.
When we finally paused, panting for air, I linked our fingers and inclined my head. “Come to my house. Stay with me tonight. All night.”
14
SMITTY
The drive from Pinecrest passed in a blur of trees and the white lines on the winding road. We probably talked and maybe we listened to music too, but the brain cells that weren’t concentrating on navigating us safely to Elmwood were firmly locked and loaded in my dick.
And get this…I was fuckin’ scared. Petrified, even.
Bryson invited me to his home.
As I turned onto our street, I had a mini internal freak-out session. Where do I park? Should I go to my place to brush my teeth and get a fresh pair of undies or something to share for breakfast? No, that was stupid. I was being stupid.
Relax, Smitty. Just fucking relax.
I parked in my driveway, wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, and quirked a lopsided smile at the unbelievably handsome man next to me.
He squeezed my arm and opened the passenger door. “Come on. This way.”
I fidgeted on his doorstep, jangling my keys in my pocket as I glanced at my house across the street, thinking it seemed so far away. It was a different perspective and I wasn’t quite sure I belonged, but damn, I wanted to.
Bryson ushered me inside his foyer, decorated with family pics mixed with artsy black-and-white nature-themed photographs. I thought about asking if he’d taken them himself…you know, for conversational purposes, but he’d moved into the adjoining living area and now stood at the foot of the sweeping staircase.
I took the hint and followed him up the stairs, down a wide hallway lined with even more family photos, and into a generous suite with a vaulted ceiling, honey-colored hardwood flooring, and a patterned rug under the king-sized bed. The drapes and the duvet were beige linen…heavy and masculine.
To be honest, it was even nicer than I’d expected, which made it slightly intimidating. My room was always a mini disaster with discarded clothes vying for space with newly washed but unfolded laundry on the dresser or on the floor.
Nothing was out of place here. The bed was made, there were no creases on the duvet, no upside-down paperbacks or scraps from hastily emptied pockets at the end of the day. There was only one photo of Jake on the white paneled walls. The rest of the art were modern oil paintings. It was all very…tasteful.
Bryson unbuttoned his shirt as he removed his shoes. His hands moved to his belt buckle and before I knew it, his fly was undone and his cock was doing its best to poke a hole through his cotton boxer briefs. My mouth fucking watered…no joke. That valley of toned abs under his open shirt and the happy trail leading south were porn-worthy. He didn’t have to be bare-ass naked to turn me on. He was perfect like this.
I kicked off my shoes and crossed the room, stopping in front of him. Bryson’s breath hitched as I ghosted my thumb over his left nipple, tweaking it lightly. I parted his shirt and slid my arm around his waist, splaying my hand over his back, then drifted lower to slip my fingers under the elastic of his boxer briefs.