Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
His face burned as he remembered why Rowe had felt he owed him an apology and he quickly shoved that thought aside and instead lost himself in the music. One of the Rottweilers, Igor, he thought, seemed to love the music more than the others as he sat and tilted his head back and forth, making Noah grin. He was growing as attached to Rowe’s dogs as he was the man himself.
Though if he were to stick with that honesty thing, he’d cared about Rowe a lot more than he’d fully realized or even accepted, for a long time. He’d actually been planning to visit Rowe years before while on leave and had bought plane tickets. He’d never used them because he’d gotten an email about Rowe’s wedding. A fucking wedding.
He’d blurred the pain of that time in his memories, but he remembered being reckless and instead of using his plane tickets to see his friend, he’d picked up a guy and spent the next week in a sleazy motel, trying to forget he’d been stupid enough to fall for his best friend. All he’d gotten from the experience had been shame, regret, and the knowledge that sex with anyone other than Rowe didn’t compare. And Rowe had been happily married. To a woman.
So what was he doing now? Setting himself up for the kind of heartbreak he might not come back from…
Shaking his head, he set the guitar down and put the last load of their combined clothes in the dryer. He took the rest to the couch, folded and set it inside a basket he’d found on top of the dryer. All the sleepless nights caught up to him and he stretched out on the couch, chuckling when Igor came and rested his head on Noah’s leg. He really loved this dog.
He wasn’t sure what woke him but when he opened his eyes, it was to find Rowe sitting on the coffee table watching him. He wore dark jeans and a brown blazer over a white button-down shirt. And ridiculously big construction boots. Noah grinned, forgetting all about the awkwardness of their morning.
“Fucking dimples,” Rowe muttered as he touched Noah’s cheek.
Noah lifted an eyebrow. “How was your day, dear?” His vocal chords sounded like they were coated with sand. He blinked at the darkness of the rooms beyond this one. He’d slept a lot longer than he’d planned. He hadn’t come close to catching up on needed sleep since he’d been here.
Chuckling, Rowe kept his green gaze locked on Noah as he unlaced his boots and left them on the floor. He dropped the jacket on the table, then put one knee on the couch and turned Noah onto his back. He stretched out on top of him and instead of the kiss Noah expected, he crossed his arms on Noah’s chest and propped his chin on them. He also nestled his jean-clad legs between Noah’s bare ones. “I like finding you half naked on my couch. You think it’s summer or something? Where’s your shirt?”
“In the dryer with the rest of my things. These shorts are yours. I was out of clean clothes.” Noah wrapped his arms around that tight, stocky body, touched that Rowe was openly cuddling him.
Rowe nestled his hips closer to Noah’s and Noah knew good and well Rowe could feel him hardening against him. The loose basketball shorts weren’t much of a barrier. Still, he didn’t act. Noah brought one hand around and touched Rowe’s hand and then immediately wished he hadn’t because the memory from the night before slammed into him, causing heat to crawl up his neck. From the apology that filled Rowe’s expression, he was remembering it, too.
Noah had humiliated himself by tightening his hold on Rowe’s hand as he’d climbed from his bed… again. All the nights before he’d managed to pretend to be asleep, but last night he couldn’t do it anymore. He needed that connection with Rowe. Yes, he’d said that it was just about fun and pleasure, but he’d been so fucking wrong. There was more between them and at times he was sure that Rowe was feeling it too. Yet, each night he’d walk away and it was like Rowe was deftly slicing away bits of his heart.
Prickly pain tightened the muscles in his chest and he wished he could go back and keep himself from giving into the need that was starting to threaten the tremulous relationship they were building. There was a lot of heat—unbelievable heat—but Rowe was keeping a part of himself separate and whether Noah liked it or not, it hurt. Hurt on a level he was all too familiar with because he’d felt the same twice before and both times had come from things Rowe had done. The second being his marriage.