Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
He just knew he’d missed this. He hadn’t realized how much he missed spending time with Oliver until this second. Because right now, as they ate bad food and acted like kids, everything else was gone—the career he hated and the anxiety he felt every time he had to do it. Parker, New York, all of it disappeared, and it was just Matt and Oliver again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They finished the rest of their cereal in near silence. When they were done, Oliver pushed his bowl away…not sure what to say. It was weird, not knowing what to talk to Matt about. Or at least, not feeling comfortable in the silence. When they were teenagers, it didn’t matter if they were talking or not. When he was with Miles and Chance it didn’t matter either, but the quiet between them right now felt heavy and awkward. What had happened to them?
“You didn’t have to cut your date short because I’m here, Ollie. I feel bad,” Matt told him.
Oliver huffed. He’d really fucking hoped he wouldn’t have to talk about this. “It wasn’t you. He has this…” Oliver almost mentioned the postnasal drip thing but decided against it. “He wanted to have a threesome. I got there, and his roommate had dinner and wine with us. He went to his room while Eddie asked me if I wanted to sleep with both of them.”
“Oh shit. You’ve gotten fucking dirty since I left.” They both chuckled, and then Matt nudged his arm. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not your thing. Did you care about him?”
“No.” The answer came easily. “I probably should have just fucked them and had a good time.” Chance definitely would have. Miles might have; it would depend on his mood. He was pretty sure Matt would have too. Maybe Eddie was right and he was too uptight.
“Nah. That’s not you. I always admired that about you—you’re true to who you are no matter what.”
Stunned, Oliver opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He wasn’t sure what to say. He sure as hell hadn’t expected Matt to tell him he admired him. Especially after the way Oliver had practically judged Matt about his own relationship earlier.
“I’m always surprised there’s not more romance in those books you write,” Matt added. “You’ve always been ruled by your heart.” Now that prompted Oliver to speak.
“You read my books?” He wrote thrillers, his most popular about an FBI agent named Davis. Even though his books sold well, it still gave him a thrill of shock when someone read them. Especially someone he knew.
“Of course I do. Am I not supposed to?”
“No. They’re off limits for you,” Oliver teased him. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. Chance and Miles don’t read them.” Which he understood. They supported him in other ways and always bought his books. Chance just wasn’t a big reader and Miles preferred non-fiction. “I know none of you like books the way I do.”
“Well if Miles and Chance don’t do it, then of course I wouldn’t, or what?” Matt grabbed both of their bowls and went to the sink, dumping the milk. Oliver hadn’t imagined the edge to his voice.
“That’s not what I meant at all. I just didn’t realize.”
Matt leaned against the counter, crossed his arms and looked at Oliver. “Davis is a lot like you—loyal, big-hearted. Did you have fantasies about being a cop you didn’t tell us about? Or you just want to bang a cop? That’s why you haven’t settled down. No one else will do.”
Oliver rolled his eyes and stood as well. He walked to the island and rested his elbows on it, facing Matt. “No, I don’t have an FBI agent fantasy, though Davis is sexy. And actually, he’s getting a new partner in the next book, and you’ll be happy to know Davis finally ends up getting some. No matter how hard Davis tries, he can’t seem to resist the other man.”
“He’s gay?” Matt asked with a smile. “I just thought he was too busy or picky to want to fuck.”
Another similarity between Davis and himself. “He’s gay…but busy too.” He ignored the picky part.
“See? You do have a cop fantasy. I knew it. So when we go out, I just know to get you laid we need to find someone with handcuffs. You might be even kinkier than the rest of us.”
The way his friends made it sound sometimes, it was as though they thought Oliver didn’t enjoy sex. Like they had to work to get him to fuck. He enjoyed sex. A lot. He wanted to fuck just as much as the rest of them. He just liked it to mean a little more than they did. It wasn’t that he’d never had a one-night stand because, well, orgasms with someone else were even better than orgasms with himself. “If you find a sexy Davis for me, I just might take you up on that offer. But just so you know, I am able to get myself laid when I want to.”