Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
I couldn’t hold back my own release any longer. And as soon as I felt his body stiffen and his channel contract, I knew he’d reached the point of no return.
My own roar drowned out whatever noise he made as his body shuddered through his orgasm. White heat shot through me, dimming my vision and stealing my breath. Robbie’s fingers tightened in mine, reminding me I was still holding one of his hands above his head while I lay stretched over him.
He panted and shuddered as aftershocks ricocheted through me. Silence fell again, with the exception of our shallow breaths.
Robbie began to move, nudging me off him and releasing my hand. My spent cock pulled out of him, leaving a trail of cum in its wake.
His thighs were wet and sloppy with a mix of saliva, lube, and now ejaculate, and it was enough to make my cock jump a little. I ran my hand down his back as I moved to stand up, but he shouldered it off him.
I stood up and stared down at his naked body, trying desperately to read his mood. He seemed… still annoyed.
How was that possible?
He avoided my eyes as he quickly gathered his clothes and pulled them back on.
“Wait, let me—” I was going to offer to clean him up, run to my private bathroom and get a wet washcloth and towel, but he stopped me.
“Nope. No need. Thanks anyway. I’m not sticking around.”
“Robbie—”
He shook his head firmly and continued getting dressed. “That’s all I needed. Thanks.”
“Baby—”
He finally met my eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed. “You do not get to call me baby or sweetheart or anything affectionate at all. In fact, you don’t get to call me, period. I’m leaving. And I don’t want you to follow. All I wanted was a fuck to get this ridiculous obsession out of my system. And now, if you give a single shit about me, you will stay away and let me get over you.”
I stared in shock as he shoved his feet into his shoes, grabbed his coat, and stormed out.
He’s upset, I told myself. Give him time to calm down.
I texted him an hour later to ask if he got home okay. When I didn’t hear back, I broke my own rule and contacted the doorman in his building.
“Yeah, he came in about a half-hour ago,” the man said. “Looked pissed. Also looked like he’d been pulled backward through a shrub. You want me to check on him or call you if I see him leave?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, as long as he made it home safely, that’s fine. Thanks for letting me know. And Tony… please don’t mention I called.”
“’Course not, Mr. Evers. Have a good night.”
He needed time to cool off. Of course I understood. I waited until two days later and showed up with the coffee he liked and his favorite brioche knot from Arizmendi. When the stubborn shit refused to answer the door, I used my key.
And stared in shock at a completely empty apartment.
8
ROBBIE
The crisp wind coming off the Atlantic stung my face and blew through my hair like a mini hurricane. It was a little too brisk for me to be on the beach, but since moving to South Carolina six weeks ago, I’d gotten into the habit of taking an early morning walk on the beach to see the sunrise. Thankfully, today was Sunday, which meant I could take my time and walk as long as I wanted instead of racing back to the house to get ready for work.
Duncan-Decker Elementary School was only a seven-minute drive from the little cottage I’d rented on a quiet, mossy road two rows back from the sprawling beachfront houses, including the one Kit owned. But as a new hire, I paid close attention to being early and making sure I was there in time to help get the kids off the bus.
Since I’d moved to Rabbit Island, I’d kept my distance from Kit’s place, not that he ever really used it that much, but it held so many wonderful memories for me, I knew it wouldn’t be healthy to gaze longingly at it. Instead, I’d vowed to make my own memories here.
As soon as I stepped off the beach to head home for a shower, it was like an industrial fan had switched off. The air returned to its normal quiet calm, interspersed only with the periodic squawk of a seagull or chirp of a songbird in the nearby crepe myrtles.
I looked both ways before crossing the street and nodded at one of my students and his dad as they drove past in a minivan with a set of golf clubs visible in the back.
Moving here had been unplanned but serendipitous. When I’d first arrived home from Kit’s office that day, shaking violently with nerves, excitement, and terror that I’d fucked everything up between us irrevocably, I’d decided to put all my stuff in storage and go to Napa to visit my friend Sam and his husband, Griff. But when I’d arrived at the vineyard where they lived and worked, I’d gotten comfortably tipsy after a long dinner specially prepared by Sam’s own chefs.