Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“But you were afraid of me. You still are.”
“I’m not fucking afraid of you, Hunter. Not anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “You sure about that?”
“I believe that you aren’t trying to kill me. I mean that.”
I bring the back of my hand up to his neck, stroking my fingers along his exposed skin there and then moving up toward his jaw.
Sometimes, Rayne is clean-shaven, and other times he lets his scruff grow out, like he has it right now.
I let my palm rest on his throat for a moment, not applying any pressure.
“But I could hurt you,” I murmur.
I feel him swallow beneath my touch. “Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe I don’t mind being hurt a little, sometimes.”
I press down on his throat. “You’re starting to sound like me, Colson.”
“Maybe you just never knew me well enough,” he murmurs. “Maybe I’ve always been like this, and I’m just better at hiding it than you are.”
My cock perks up a little beneath the fabric of my boxer briefs.
He reaches up and pushes my hand off of his throat, like he’s purposely trying to deny me.
So that’s how you want to play it.
And I hate how well it works on me.
“When I couldn’t sleep, back then, I thought about Crimson College,” Rayne says. He’s still gripping my hand as he brings it low.
He moves my hand down toward my underwear and a moment later, he pushes my own palm onto my bulge.
His hand is draped over mine as he squeezes around my fingers.
Using my hand like a puppet of his own, gripping around my cock.
I moan softly at the contact. He keeps his hand on mine, gently kneading it on my erection as he keeps talking.
“I always thought of Crimson College. Ever since your brother told me it existed, I wanted to be here. I wasn’t the kind of person who would usually be able to attend Crimson, so I wanted to prove that I could get in. I also didn’t like the idea of being apart from Weston. Ever.”
I sigh gently as he uses my hand to squeeze me there again.
“Quit talking about my brother while you’re touching my cock.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you something else, then,” he says. “I prefer waffles to pancakes. I take my coffee with milk and two sugars. And my favorite day at the gym is leg day. Is this the kind of stuff you’d rather talk about, Hunter?”
I groan as he pushes on my cock. “Maybe I do want to talk about that stuff. Got a problem with it?”
“You’re not really interested in me. Not like that.”
“Why’s it so hard for you to believe I could be curious about you, Rayne? You seem to have every other girl and gay guy at Crimson wanting to know everything about you.”
“Well, there’s nobody quite like you, Knox.”
“I know Weston’s not the only reason you wanted to come to Crimson. You thought I’d be here, too. You watched me from afar, every time you were at our house and anytime you saw me in school.”
“Big ego you’ve got there.”
“It’s the truth,” I tell him. “And the afternoon that Wes told you I was going to London instead of Crimson, you kept asking him why.”
Rayne’s hand suddenly becomes still over mine. “What?”
“I was in the living room, lying down on the couch, and you guys were in the kitchen. I heard you ask my brother. Why would he want to go to London? There’s nowhere better than Crimson. He should just go with you. I mean, Hunter’s freaky, but he’s not stupid. He belongs at Crimson.”
“Well, I was fucking wrong. You don’t belong here,” Rayne suddenly says, his voice going steely.
“Relax. I was flattered. You can admit you wanted to fuck me. I won’t tell.”
“Hunter.”
I meet his gaze, and for a moment, he looks like a spooked animal.
“Admit it,” I whisper at him.
There’s no malice in my voice.
I just want the truth.
I know the truth.
And I know that he does, too.
“Ego the size of a goddamn yacht,” he mutters as he glances down at my lips, then back to my eyes again.
“Honesty before everything,” I say in a light tone, and I shove down the waistband of my underwear, pulling them down with my free hand so that my other hand lands on my bare cock.
With his palm still resting right above it.
“It doesn’t matter if I wanted to fuck you,” he says finally. “I knew I wouldn’t let that happen in a million years.”
“I knew it.”
“Shut up.”
“You wanted my body. You wanted my mouth, my hands, my ass—”
“And you didn’t want to know me at all.”
Something flashes through his eyes and it hits me all at once.
He wanted my attention back then, and he never got it.
He had an unrequited crush.
My heart aches a little in my chest. There’s something so pure about the way he looks, pure in a way that isn’t even available to someone like me.