Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
He chuckles as if that’s the most ridiculous idea. “No one is going to hurt me.”
“You got shot the day I met you. Don’t annoy me, or I’ll poke your wound.” Which reminds me, I need to check it. He acts like he doesn’t need it, but I like keeping an eye on how he’s healing.
“No, you won’t.” Rian puts his hands on my hips and tugs me closer. “I’m going to protect you.”
“I’m not worried about me.”
“That’s why I am.” He looks up at me. “Let’s go out tonight.”
“What?” Where did that come from, and how will it help with anything?
“Let me take you out. It’ll be good for people to see you with me anyway…then they’ll know you’re protected, know that if they move on you, they’re moving on me.”
My brain spins with that thought. There’s the quiet voice in my head, one I’m not proud of, that feels…worthier because of that, more important in this way I’ve never felt, except when I was saving someone’s life. It’s wild, really. That’s not why I do what I do. It’s not why I save lives, and I don’t feel like I deserve praise for it, like I’m doing anything special. I often get uncomfortable with the attention from doing my job, if I’m being honest, but it’s the only purpose I’ve ever known, and the only thing that has brought me joy since losing my mother.
But being Rian’s…that brings me joy too and makes me feel like more than I am. I’m not proud of that truth, but it’s a truth all the same.
“Still…I don’t want you to take me out just to prove something.”
“That’s not why…it’s just another result.” He stands, easing closer to my body. “I’m taking you out because you deserve it. Because you’ve been working tirelessly all week to help me figure out the logistics of putting this whole music thing in motion…and because I want everyone to know how fucking lucky I am that you’re mine.” Rian cups my face in his hand, tilting my head so I’m looking at him. “My partner…mine to fuck…mine to love…mine to protect.”
Damned if my knees don’t go weak. This man has got me feeling shit I never thought was possible, wanting things I never would have believed I could have…like exactly what he said—for everyone to know that he could have chosen anyone, but he chose me.
“If you’d like to take me on a date, I’m not going to argue.” I smile, and a laugh pushes out of Rian’s throat.
“Oh, you won’t, huh? You don’t want to go, you just won’t argue.” He chuckles again, then buries his face in my throat. “I forgot what it was like to feel this way…for even the smallest things to be fun…and to share it with another person.”
“I never knew.” I might have dated and been in relationships with other men, but none of them made me feel the way Rian does. None of them cared for me the way he does, either. Being the center of his attention is a heady drug, and one I’ve quickly become addicted to. “We’ll shower first, and then I want you to come on me. I want to smell like you when you take me out.”
He growls in response and takes my mouth.
We don’t quite make it upstairs. Rian blows me right there in his office, then it’s time for the shower, and for him to jerk off on my chest.
“Will you wear something for me?” he asks when I’m still on my knees, his cum on my skin.
“Yes.” I stand, and he rubs it in, before the two of us go to the closet. He pulls out a small black box. I frown, but take it from him, opening it to find a gorgeous two-tone—white and yellow—gold watch. I don’t know a lot about watches, but there’s no doubt in my mind that this one is expensive.
“Rian…this is too much.”
“No. Nothing is too much for you.” He takes the box from me, pulling out the beautiful watch with the blue face, before sliding it onto my wrist.
I have to admit, it looks incredible there—bold and strong, a reminder of him. “Thank you. I love it,” I reply.
“Good, and you’re welcome.”
Whoever took care of things at my house brought over more of my stuff. I wear black slacks and a gray button-up.
Rian goes for all black himself, and when I look at us both in the mirror, the epitome of dapper—Rian with a side of dark and dangerous—I say, “Damn, we look good.”
“Yes,” Rian replies, voice deep and husky. “We do.”
When we get downstairs, I stiffen when I see two men that I don’t recognize in the living room—one with dark hair and the other with red.
“Damn, Boss. You clean up nice,” the ginger says, and I relax, realizing that someone didn’t break in, and they know Rian. The guy looks me up and down, and I recognize that, whether the others know it or not, this man is queer too. “You got good taste.”