Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
I grab his waist, needing to hold on to him. “Whoa,” I say softly.
Declan stares at me lasciviously, licking his lips nice and slow, as if he just finished a feast.
I’m still moaning. Harsh breath staggers from my lips. My shoulders heave. “So, that was a really good bagel,” I tell him in between gasps.
He nuzzles my neck, laughing as he whispers against my skin, “You can have a bagel anytime you want, babe.”
Pretty sure I’m going to be taking him up on that offer again and again.
I pick up the bagel and finish it. Best I’ve ever had.
But soon, it’s time to go. After I give him a goodbye blow job, we kiss relentlessly at the front door.
We don’t make promises, though. Promises got us in trouble before. Besides, we already made a plan—the we’re-not-supposed-to-have-a-plan plan.
With a reluctant tip of his forehead, he reaches for the doorknob, then spots a Hawks cap on the entryway table. “My hair’s a mess. Any chance I can borrow your hat?”
“You know I like you in my clothes.” I hand him the cap then think better of it and set it on his head. Why waste one more chance to touch him?
When he leaves, I’m both sad and happy.
I try to hold on to the happy, though, as I straighten up the place, pull on a workout shirt, and change into compression shorts, since the Rafe Rodmans are not for the gym.
Before I go meet the guys, my phone lights up with a text from the man wearing my hat.
33
Grant
This is the kind of text I like getting from him.
* * *
Declan: Just ran into Crosby and Holden when I was leaving the coffee shop around the block. Pretty sure they won’t put two and two together about why I stayed an extra night in San Francisco and ran into them a block from where you live. Straight guys can be so clueless. It’s fucking adorable.
* * *
Grant: Ha! I know! I’ll throw them off the scent even more. It’ll be a blast.
* * *
Declan: Can’t wait to hear about it.
* * *
I leave a few minutes later, bounding down the steps in my workout clothes just as Holden and Crosby are heading up to my front door.
Crosby shoots me a curious look, gesturing to my hair. Hmmm. I have a feeling it’s still sticking up in all sorts of directions thanks to Declan’s fingers mowing their way through it.
“You’ve been DoorDashing on a Saturday afternoon?” Crosby asks.
I smirk, rolling my eyes as I flip him the bird. “Yeah, I had a burger and a blow job. Let’s go hit the gym.”
As we work out, the three of us get lost in our own worlds. I’m not a mind reader, so I can’t speak for Holden and Crosby, but I know where my mind is.
I text Declan as I kill it on the treadmill, sweat sliding down my skin.
* * *
Grant: Told them I DoorDashed. Had a burger and a blow job.
* * *
Declan: How was the burger?
* * *
Grant: Fanfuckingtastic. Was it a good one for you too?
* * *
Declan: The best. By the way, thanks for the hat. Smells like your shampoo. Which means I’m hard.
* * *
Grant: So, pretty much how it always is with you when it comes to me?
* * *
Declan: Yup.
* * *
Grant: I’d ask for a dick pic, but you’re at an airport. You can send me one tonight.
* * *
Grant: Wait. Pretend I didn’t ask that.
* * *
Grant: I’m ignoring you for three months.
* * *
Grant: I’m ignoring you so fucking hard.
* * *
Declan: Watch it, rookie. You’re not ignoring me. No way. Also, you act like you can stop me from sending you a pic. But I will. I definitely will.
* * *
Grant: Score!
* * *
Declan: Hey . . .
* * *
Grant: Hey to you . . .
* * *
Declan: Thank you—for giving me another chance.
* * *
I smile as I hit four miles at a ten percent incline, running hard and fast. This feels amazing, like anything is possible.
* * *
Grant: Remember last night when you said therapy was like spilling your guts and hoping people still want to hang out with you?
* * *
Declan: I do.
* * *
Grant: I want to hang out with you more than ever.
Declan keeps his promise to send me a selfie that night. I make excellent use of it.
Since I’m generous that way, I send him one too.
He also makes use of it.
A few days later, I land in Arizona, step off the plane, and snap a shot of Camelback Mountain to post on my social media feeds. Four greatest words in the English language to a baseball fan: Pitchers and Catchers Report.
Declan Steele is the first person to like my post.
The next day, I go for a run around the golf course, stopping to take a picture of two herons. I don’t post that on social. I send it to him.