Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 194(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
“I see.”
“That’s what you’re for,” he said, emphasizing, in case I missed that I was the boyfriend.
I was quiet.
“I mean, I confessed to them I had a fucked-up day, and they just told me to have a drink so I’d feel better.”
But that was his fault for not explaining that he didn’t just have a bad day, he had a terrible one.
“You should have just come on home.”
“I know that!”
“Why are you yellin’?”
“Because I know I should have just come home. I said that already.”
“I would have been here.”
“Jesus, Weber, I know! The only place I want to be right now is with you, but my car will be in some impound yard tomorrow if I leave it at the bar!”
“Okay,” I soothed him. “I’ll be right there. Tell me where the bar is.”
After he gave me the address, I called for a cab and went to change out of the good clothes I was wearing and into a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a long-sleeved button-down. I grabbed the peacoat I liked more and more with each passing day—my denim jacket still hanging in Cy’s closet from the day I arrived—and my cowboy boots that I picked up that morning from the shoe-repair shop. Why I was antsy, I had no idea, but him being drunk when I wasn’t there to warn other men off annoyed me. My reaction to him was normal; the possessiveness was not.
If I hadn’t stopped to see him, if I’d simply stayed on the damn bus, I would not have to come face-to-face with the truth.
Hell.
I thought about him the whole ride.
I found the bar and the lot and drove the sleek car the five blocks to his friend Jeff’s place, easily finding the huge warehouse converted into trendy lofts. I took the stairs to the fourth floor instead of trusting the old metal freight elevator.
I thought I was going to a small get-together, but even before I reached the level, I could hear the voices and the music. It was a party, loud and raucous, surprising for a Tuesday night. But I was used to going to bed at nine and being up at four in the morning. My guess was that no one here had to be up before dawn.
Pushing between people, making my way through the crowd outside the apartment, I finally made it inside and saw him standing by the kitchen, drink in hand, leaning heavily against the wall. Several men were near him, one with a hand on his shoulder.
As I crossed the floor to him, he looked up and saw me. His eyes lit up, and he levered off the wall, putting his drink down and brushing by the others to reach me. He could have waited, but he didn’t, meeting me halfway.
“Holy shit, Web.” He smiled wide, his eyes glittering. “You’re breathtaking.”
“You’re drunk.” I laughed softly, reaching out, my hand moving to the back of his neck, my fingers sliding under the open collar of his dress shirt as I drew him forward. The look on his face, the hooded eyes, made my stomach hurt. He was so beautiful. “Can I kiss you?”
“Really?” he asked, because normally public displays were not within my comfort zone.
“No one cares in here, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, then.” I wet my lips. “May I?”
“That would be good,” he answered, his voice hoarse.
I eased him closer, my mouth slanting over his, letting him feel my desire and need, my tongue tasting him, the tequila he’d been drinking and the faint sliver of salt. When he moaned into my mouth, I clutched him tight, savoring the way his body melted against mine. His arms wrapped around my neck as he whimpered, pressing his obvious erection to my groin. Drunk and horny, his body flushed with heat. I needed to get the man home fast.
“No, no, no,” he whined when I pulled back, taking a deep breath of air.
“You need to come with me,” I said, loving the glazed look in his big, wet eyes.
“Web, just take me into the bathroom.”
“You have lost your mind.” I sighed as I held his face in my hands and smiled slowly, lazily. “I got here as fast as I could.”
He nodded.
“I didn’t want you to start kissin’ frogs again.”
His hand went to my shoulder, and he looked at me hard. I saw the muscles in his jaw flex. “I only kissed frogs before I found you. Christ, Weber, you’re my prince.”
“I dunno about that.”
“You are. You were never a frog,” he said gruffly, his voice low and husky.
It was dumb that I needed to hear the words—I was an action-over-declaration kind of guy—but from him, it was necessary. Always had been.
“Let’s go home, Web. Please. I wanna go home.”
“Why?” I teased him.
He leaned his head forward so my hands slipped around his neck. “Because I need you, and you won’t fuck me here.”