Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
If I let him fuck me, that’d seal the deal.
This thing we do will become…more.
And it has no potential of becoming more because I have no more to give.
I’m at my end. Empty. Cold. Dead inside.
Zak deserves so much more than me.
“You’re not fucking me,” I rumble, running my fingers through his hair because I know he likes it. “But you can suck me off.”
At least when my dick is down his throat, I forget my shitty life for a few minutes.
He yanks at the button on my black skinny jeans and then unzips them. His grin is wolfish, as it always is when he sees I’m going commando. With jeans this tight, you can’t wear briefs or boxers. Everything sits better without that extra layer.
“I love your cock,” he croons, nuzzling his nose against my pubes. “I love you.”
I freeze at his words. It’s not the first time he’s said it. I don’t know why he says it sometimes. As if I might slip up and say it back. We’re best friends. Not whatever he wants us to be.
“Zak—”
My words are cut off when he slides his mouth over my dick. The grip I have on his hair tightens, and I buck my hips up. For a few minutes, he has my undivided attention, and I give him my body because that’s all I have to give. His mouth works magic until I come with a harsh gasp. He sucks down my orgasm eagerly. I’m about to return the favor when we hear voices in the other room.
Fuck.
“Perfect timing with those two,” Zak complains as he yanks his shirt back on. “Jax is the biggest cockblock on the planet.”
I smirk at him as I shimmy my jeans back up over my ass. After tucking my wet dick into my jeans, I zip up and jerk my shirt down just as the bedroom door opens. Zak flops down beside me, irritation making his cute face even cuter.
“You kids hungry?” Jax asks, sauntering in with my brother on his heels. “We’re going to Comida’s. Going to talk about the wedding.”
I’d rather do anything—literally anything—than talk about the wedding.
“Meet us there?” Dante says to Jax.
They share one of those creepy, weighted looks where they have a conversation without speaking. I roll my eyes because I know said conversation is about me. It always is.
I’m spiraling out of control.
Most days, I’m empty and brittle. Others, anger controls my mouth and attitude. And on some days, I just want to sleep.
Since I live with my brother and Jax, he sees my unraveling more than Shelly does. No matter how hard I try to hide it, he sees. He always sees. If it didn’t make my chest hurt, I’d say it reminds me of the way Dad was. But thinking about Dad opens up a new can of worms, and quite frankly, I’m not equipped to deal with that shit right now.
Zak playfully bites my nose, and I smack at him. He chuckles as he climbs off the bed. Jax ruffles his hair which turns into a shoving match that makes the walls rattle as they make their way down the hall. Dante’s amusement fades as he turns a critical eye to me.
“What’s going on, Callan?”
Here we go.
“Nothing.”
His eyes roll. “Can’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I elaborate. “Seriously. I’m fine.”
“Is this about…the bodies?”
Dante’s fiancé is our town sheriff and Zak’s older brother.
Recently, Jax and his deputy, Brie Larson, have had their hands full with a string of murders in the Beacon Island National Forest. Though they kept it quiet from the locals, those who live under the same roof as Jax—mainly Dante, Zak, and myself—were privy to this information. Luckily, Jax said they’ve apprehended those responsible, so we don’t have to worry. But try telling my overprotective brother not to worry.
“I said I’m fine,” I grit out, kicking my feet off the side of the bed and standing.
The room tilts a bit, and I clamp my eyes closed. It’s been about nine months since Hank’s metal baseball bat provided me with a skull fracture that required mesh and pins. If I’m stressed or tired, I get the occasional dizzy spell or headache. Dr. Olson says it’s normal, but it doesn’t feel normal whenever it happens.
“Hey,” Dante growls. “Talk to me.”
Spinning on him, my anger rears its ugly head, and I lash out at my brother. “Talk to you? Okay, big bro. How about this? My head hurts when I’m stressed. I have nightmares of that monster crushing my skull in with a fucking bat. I’m still aching over Dad’s death and miss my friends back home. I get tired of seeing you and Shelly so goddamn happy when I can barely muster a smile. My best friend is in love with me, and I can’t love him back.” Hot tears burn my eyes, but I blink them away. “I’m suffocating here in this stupid town. Feel better hearing all that? I sure as fuck don’t.”