Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Casey balanced his neediness and independence masterfully.
Galan wandered deeper into the room until he came across a heavy album.
He carried it to a chair, sat down, and flipped it open.
It was page after page of photographs—smiling couples outside and some inside the mansion.
Galan understood…they were success stories. Survivors. Love redeemed.
Casey drifted back to him, pausing until Galan crooked a finger.
Wordless, Casey climbed onto his lap, straddling his thighs as though it were the most natural place for him to be.
Galan spread his hand along the base of Casey’s spine as he continued to turn the pages.
His boy pointed out the names and stories he knew.
Casey met his gaze before he leaned in and brushed his soft cheek against his beard. Galan hummed his approval and kissed him on his temple.
It was sweet, almost innocent, yet a sharp current of need made his breath catch.
The first quake of thunder rumbled outside, making Casey flinch. He tried to smile it off, but the grip Casey had on his shirt told the truth.
“Come,” Galan murmured, closing the album with finality.
Casey
Back in his condo, for the first time since he’d moved in, the air felt intimate and the walls closer.
The overwhelming weight of Galan’s presence filled more than the room. It pressed against him, steady and immovable, like a wall built to catch him if he fell.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous, not even in front of thousands on a stage.
No, this was far more stomach-clenching.
Every flicker of Galan’s intense gaze to his, every tic of his jaw, made Casey’s pulse trip over itself.
He wanted to be flawless for him. Wanted to prove he was worth the risk, worth the contract, worth being claimed.
But fear gnawed at him—that Galan would see through him, see the cracks, and walk away like everyone else had. And yet, under the fear, there was something else… something softer. A fragile warmth that Galan emanated from deep inside.
Casey could feel it.
He’s the one.
He fixed Galan a drink, moving more slowly now, fatigue and nerves making his hands tremble faintly.
He set the glass in Galan’s hand, then perched on the edge of his chair.
A yawn slipped from him, but he kept his eyes glued to Galan’s, afraid that if he looked away, Galan might vanish.
The thunder cracked again in the distance, and despite how hard he tried to remain still, he jumped.
“You should rest,” Galan said, his voice low.
Casey shook his head, knew he was being stubborn. “Not yet.”
I don’t want to miss a single moment with you.
“Bed,” Galan said again, firmer this time, but he softened the command with a gentle touch.
In his bedroom, Galan helped him out of his shirt. Every movement was deliberate, adoring.
He folded the garment neatly and laid it aside before turning back to draw down the covers.
Casey slipped between the sheets, his eyes clinging to his Galan’s every motion.
His Sir sat at the edge of the bed and brushed a lock of hair from across his forehead with a touch so steady it made him ache for more touch…lower.
“Have you made up your mind about the contract?” Casey whispered. He wanted to know and he didn’t.
“I have,” Galan admitted, jaw flexing.
Casey nodded. “Will you tell me?”
“No. Rest.”
Galan caressed his cheek one last time and left the room.
I’ll wait. However long it takes, Sir. I’ll wait.
Belladonna Mansion
Thorn’s Office
Virginia Beach Oceanfront
1:45 a.m.
“Thorn, who is Lucas Brewer, and why would the police think you have anything to do with Evan’s death?” Lincoln asked as he came farther into Thorn’s immaculate office.
The furniture was all sleek black and chrome, except for the huge desk.
Thorn didn’t answer him as he stood in front of the tall window and parted the drapes slightly as if he was looking out for trouble.
Lincoln heard the detectives’ car engine turn over and begin to fade as they left the property. He assumed they were going no farther than the end of the driveway to ensure they complied with going to the precinct. Only when they were gone did Thorn pull out his cell phone and an ivory business card.
“Are you just gonna keep pretending like I’m not standing here speaking?” Lincoln frowned.
He’d never liked being ignored.
Thorn’s anxious gaze met his as he held up his pointer finger, silently asking for a moment.
“Lucas, it’s Thorn Blackwell. We met last week at Pier Fortune.” Thorn lowered his voice. “I’m hoping you remember me. Can you call me as soon as you get this message?”
“Well?” Lincoln encouraged after Thorn pocketed his cell phone and the card, then grabbed his Mercedes keys off the desk.
“Come on. I’ll tell you what little story there is about Lucas on the way, but this stays between us for now, Linc.” Thorn hurried through the mansion until they were at the garage door. “I don’t want the other men getting worried over nothing.”