Unexpected Mission Sweet Surrender Read online T.S. McKinney (Sub Mission #3)

Categories Genre: M-M Romance, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Sub Mission Series by T.S. McKinney
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
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I felt safe.

This mystery man that probably hated me gave me more comfort than any other man in my world. He’d given me my itinerary for the day, and it had been based on getting the job done as easily as possible, instead of focusing on making the most money or being noticed by the biggest agency. With that realization, I hopped out of the bed and started getting ready. My morning workout was planned for five in the morning, and I wasn’t going to disappoint Landon again. Workout, shower, breakfast—those were first on his list. I could do this. I could give him everything he wanted, prove to him I was a responsible adult instead of a child he needed to babysit.

I brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, did a sniff check to make sure I didn’t stink, and then pushed my legs into my workout pants and sweatshirt. I’d just put my tennis shoes on when Landon walked into the room. He looked totally surprised when he saw I was ready. With a big smile, I said, “Good morning, BG. How did you sleep?”

“I slept fine. Let’s go.” With that gruff answer, he turned and strode out of the room. Like an obedient puppy, I followed him. I couldn’t help but wonder what had crawled up his ass. Maybe he wasn’t a morning person?

“Sure. I’m ready. I slept awesome,” I chatted like an idiot as I followed him to the door.

“Probably the cocaine.” He opened the door and motioned for me to step out after he’d checked the hallway.

Probably the cocaine? Seriously? Is that how he felt about me? I knew last night had been bad, but I’d thought we’d ended on a good note. I sure as hell had. During the night, it had taken all my strength to not toss the pillow barrier aside and crawl all over him…and I wasn’t gay.

But I wanted Landon…gay or not.

Who was I fooling? I’d known I was probably bisexual for a long time. It wasn’t something I was ashamed of, but I’d fought the feeling simply because while I might have been physically attracted to some men, I’d never once wanted them in my bed. Now? I didn’t want anybody in my bed except Landon. That was too bad since he was back to hating me this morning.

“I messaged your trainer. He’s going to meet us at the hotel gym. He said something about reserving the entire area, but I don’t see that happening—not with this hotel being stuffed with models, male and female.” His voice was gruff and irritable. The look on his face wasn’t much better. He was grouchy but still sexy as sin.

“No, I’m sure he’s reserved the entire gym. Most models, regardless of what the media portrays, don’t have the funds required to travel to the sites, much less come up with cash for all the other expenses—like reserving gyms.” I shrugged, disgusted with the life I led. “I guess that’s why most of us end up on our knees or backs.”

I noticed he punched the number for the gym exceptionally hard after my words. When the elevator doors closed, he asked, “Is that what you have to do? Have you had to sell yourself in order to be successful?”

It was odd, he didn’t sound disgusted with me—more anger than disgust. Inwardly, I smiled. It was yet another way for him to show his protective side, without even knowing it.

“Nope, not me,” I answered quickly. “My name helps out a lot and then there’s my mom and dad’s connections with the industry. It offers a lot of protection. Other people don’t have that, though. They have to fight, claw, and crawl to be noticed. It sucks.” I knew my words made me sound like a bastard but lying to Landon wasn’t something I felt the need to do. I wanted him to know the truth, to understand my world.

The numbers on the elevator clicked away quickly.

“Why do you do it?” he asked. “It doesn’t sound like a lifestyle you respect…yet, here you are, competing in a world that you seem to dislike.”

I shrugged. “Because it’s what I do. It’s what was expected of me. It’s what I’m good at.” I laughed. “Hell, let’s be honest, being pretty is probably all I’ll ever be good at.”

The doors slid open and he held out his hand and pushed against my chest, keeping me from stepping off the elevator. When he deemed it safe, he motioned for me to follow him. As we walked toward the gym, ignoring anyone who noticed who I was, he finally answered softly, “You are much more valuable than you give yourself credit for. Stop allowing others to control your life.”

His answer pissed me off—like I’d never thought of that, as if I’d never judged myself, realized I fell short, and wanted to change into something better. Fuck, he looked at me just like everybody else did…just like I looked at myself.


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