Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
He laughed, and it made something warm settle inside of me. “You said that back when I needed an excuse not to go out drinking with my friends in middle school, Trace. Not quite the same thing.”
“Eh. I was kind of hoping it wasn’t an excuse to avoid Jake so much as an excuse to spend the day with me. Maybe we could find a nice trail and pack a sandwich?”
I wanted time alone with him. Time to talk. To gently prod him about my Fletcher Coe suspicions. To see if he was ready to trust me with the truth.
“That’s perfect. There are a bunch of good trails around here,” Wolfe volunteered excitedly. “I read on the internet to avoid the actual Tater Heap trail. Loose shale and stuff. We can try Cold Pass Creek or Nickel Bend. Depends if you want flat or hilly.”
“Whatever you pick, baby. I’m just happy to spend time with you. It’s been too long.”
My casual words landed heavily, reminding us both of the obvious reason we hadn’t spent time together recently. Of our unknown future. Of the Derek-and-Jude-shaped elephant in the room.
We needed to discuss all of that. And we would.
Before Wolfe could retreat into himself, I pressed a long, lingering kiss to his lips. “Let’s get some sleep, and we can start out early. Sound good?”
He smiled up at me, happy and bright. “G’night, Trace.”
My chest felt like it housed one large, stupid, possibly drunk butterfly. I kissed him again and followed it up with another press of my lips to his cheek, jaw, and neck. “Night, sweetheart.”
I nestled against him and took a deep breath.
All I could smell was him. The remnants of our sex. The clean scent of his deodorant. The still-present campfire smoke.
All I could feel was him. The damp warmth of his breath against my forehead. The prickly scratch of his leg hair against mine. The circle of his fingers and thumb around my wrist on his chest.
And all I could think about was him. The endearing way he retreated into running his mouth when he was nervous. The sweet way he surrendered to me in bed with breathy pleas. The incredible talent he shared with the world every time he crafted a new melody.
The heart-clenching loneliness he had to be feeling, carrying such a heavy secret.
When I finally fell asleep, it was to my own desperate thoughts of how to make things work between us. How to tell Derek and Jude that Wolfe Marian was meant to be mine. That my loving him wasn’t a sign of my disrespect to our friendship or the years of support the Marians had given me. It was simply… how things were.
I couldn’t pinpoint when, over the last six years, it had happened, but I’d fallen for their son.
Completely and totally.
To the point where I was ready to risk the most important relationships—well, the second-most important, now—in my life to keep Wolfe with me and love him the way he deserved.
Waking up in Wolfe’s arms hours later to the sleep-soft sound of his gentle breathing told me the risk was worth it.
Reality would come crashing down later. But for now, I was determined to take advantage of my day with Wolfe’s sole attention.
17
WOLFE
When I woke up with a warm, solid body next to me, my half-asleep brain decided the most appropriate response was to giggle.
“The fuck?” Trace murmured.
“Ignore me.” The croaky sound of my morning voice triggered more laughter. Maybe I was simply high from the reality sinking in of having finally slept with Trace Bishop.
Trace Bishop was naked in my bed.
Trace Bishop’s naked cock was pressed against my thigh.
Trace Bishop’s hand was squeezing my naked pec.
“Couldn’t ignore you if I wanted to,” he mumbled against the back of my neck. “And I don’t want to. What’s so funny?”
“I’m not used to waking up with anyone in my bed,” I admitted, turning to face him.
Trace’s sleepy grin grew wide. “Thought you said you’d had hookups on this trip.”
“I did. More than one.”
His grin dimmed immediately. “Oh?”
I couldn’t help but laugh again. Then, for some reason, my brain replayed his face falling over and over until I was giggling hysterically and he was frowning in confusion. “Sorry, sorry,” I gasped. “Just… your face.”
“I mean, you certainly have the right to hook up with whoever you want,” he said grudgingly.
“I know,” I agreed with a grin. But I was enjoying the fuck out of his obvious discomfort with the idea.
I’d never thought I’d get to see Trace Bishop jealous over me. I was adding this moment to my mental highlight reel—the one I’d never be able to share with anyone. Right up there with my Grammy win and hearing Papa sing along to one of my songs.
“Mpfh.” Trace was clearly not enjoying my amusement.
At least until I leaned in and kissed the turned-down edge of his grumpy lips.