Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I finally said, turning to face him. “We’re making quite a habit of rescuing each other.”
Tommy shrugged, his profile sharp against the night sky. “It was nothing.”
“Hell of a kiss to be referred to as nothing,” I said with a soft laugh.
His eyes met mine then, and the intensity I saw there made my breath catch. Without thinking, I stepped closer, wanting to touch him and possibly kiss him again, if he was up for it.
“I, uh…” He pursed his lips together as if unsure what to say. “Yeah. That was a hell of a kiss.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Not sure I’ve ever had a kiss like that.”
I closed the remaining distance between us and reached for him.
This time when our lips met, there was no audience, no pretense. Just desire, raw and honest. My hands moved to his waist, slipping beneath the hem of his button-down shirt to touch warm skin. He shuddered against me, his own hands coming up to grip my shoulders.
We stumbled slightly, moving deeper into the shadows of a cluster of palm trees. My back hit the rough trunk of one, and Tommy pressed against me, our bodies aligned from chest to thigh. The kiss grew hungrier, messier. My fingers traced the ridges of muscle along his back as he made a sound low in his throat that shot straight through me.
“Wait—” he gasped as I nipped at his jaw. “I can’t—”
I pulled back, brushing my lips closer to his ears. “What do you need?” I breathed against his skin, not wanting to put any actual distance between us. My stomach tightened with want, and my heart thundered with excitement.
“Foster,” he whispered. The way he said my name—reverent but conflicted—made me pull back and cradle his face, searching for an explanation in his expression.
His eyes were dark with desire but also swimming with confusion. I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe there was some guilt in there, too. Whatever it was, it clearly meant kissing time was over for now.
Fuck.
My stomach dropped. Until that moment, I truly thought he was like any other attractive man I’d flirted with in the past few years—the kind I could enjoy, then walk away from fairly easily. But sitting here in the face of his rejection, I realized I really liked this guy.
Really liked him.
“Hey, sure,” I said stupidly. “No, it’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I was desperate to keep this from ending completely. I’d loved the fuck out of kissing the man, but I’d also enjoyed getting to know him. “You could come back to my room—just to talk, I mean.”
Tommy’s expression looked both pained and conflicted. “I, um… I can’t. I mean, I want to, but… I… shouldn’t.”
The rush of euphoria I’d experienced simply being in his presence and wondering what the night ahead of us held suddenly changed course, like the world’s most powerful vacuum had decided to suck my happiness away.
“Why?” I asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
He reached over and gripped my forearm. “I’m… I’m straight.”
I watched him carefully. “Not a dealbreaker, Tommy,” I said softly, breaking one of my own rules. Nothing good ever came with hooking up with “straight” men, and I knew it from personal experience. But there was something about this guy that made me want to throw the rule as far out into the deep, dark ocean as I could possibly fling it.
His cheeks, already flushed pink from the kiss, darkened even more. “It… I… I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
I pasted on a grin I definitely didn’t feel. “Understood. My loss. But I really enjoyed hanging out tonight. And thanks for being a great wingman. That was very cool of you, all things considered. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I’d known you were straight.”
He nodded a little erratically. “Yeah, no, uh. It’s all good. I have a lot of gay and bi uncles and cousins. And one of my sisters is gay.”
“And you grew up in San Francisco,” I joked, suddenly feeling very awkward.
His hand tightened around my arm. “Foster… will you come back to my room and let me give you a clean T-shirt? I have extras, and you don’t have anything clean to wear until your luggage gets here.”
I put my hand over his and squeezed. This time, my smile was genuine. “Now, that sounds like a proposition too good to pass up.”
Thankfully, the awkwardness passed when we walked back past the bar and shared a laugh at the sound of Matthew’s even more drunk voice crooning about something that rhymed with heartbreak. As we continued along the path toward the building where Tommy’s room was—thankfully, nowhere near my own—we fell into easy conversation again.
Tommy pulled a faded T-shirt from his suitcase—soft cotton worn thin from years of washing.