Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He sank down the side of the kitchen cabinet to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest and clutching his phone, then letting out a gasping laugh. As much as he despised people who held money above all things, who hoarded it as if it was the only thing that mattered, while other people suffered without…he couldn’t help the flush of relief that went through him, strong enough to take his breath away, to leave his eyes stinging. What was probably nothing to Vic could change Amani’s life. Not just his tuition, but the safety of knowing neither he nor his mother would have to choose between paying the light bill or new winter clothing, eating healthy food or being able to afford the subway to work.
And speaking of work…
He fumbled through his contact list, then stabbed at his mother’s listing and waited for her to pick up. “Mama?” he asked breathlessly. “Can you take the day off?”
His mother paused, sounding confused. “I really shouldn’t, but…Yadira could probably cover the desk…”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“For what?”
And Amani couldn’t help grinning, before it burst into a bubbling laugh. “We’re going shopping.”
l
VIC LASTED THROUGH FIVE WHOLE agonizing hours and two separate meetings before he gave in and picked up the phone.
Maybe some part of him had hoped to find a text from Amani. Just something, anything that said he was as much on Amani’s mind as Amani was on his. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him all morning, when everything from the feeling of his coffee mug pressing against his kiss-tender lips to the lingering ache of soreness in his shoulders reminded him of that feeling when he’d somehow unlocked inside, all these things he’d had compacted into a tight little ball bursting free to riot everywhere.
And Amani’s touch had been the key.
He’d been struggling to force all those chaotic things back into their place today, stuff them down where they couldn’t be seen, but he’d been snappish and impatient and berating himself nonstop for not being able to keep a civil tongue in his head the longer the day went on. And the moment Mrs. Ackerbee checked out militantly at noon for her lunch break, Vic peered out the door, then slammed it shut and paced back to his desk, scrolling his empty notifications bar before tapping on Amani’s contact and hitting call.
He half expected Amani to ignore his call—but after a moment a breathless “Hello?” came over the line.
“Hey,” he said, and dropped down into his chair with a wince as his voice cracked. “I mean. Hey.”
“Vic?” Amani paused; over the line Vic caught faint sounds of human noise, a crowd somewhere, soft neutral music. “Give me a minute. I can’t talk to you in front of my mother.”
“Where are you?”
Amani laughed, as the noises around him faded; just the sound of that laughter eased the irritated tension that had been building behind Vic’s temples all day. “Currently hiding in a fitting room at Saks 5th Avenue,” he said, voice dropping to a hush. “My mother says thank you for her new bed, new refrigerator, and new wardrobe. Or she would if she knew they came from you.”
“She’s very welcome. Or she would be?”
“Dork.” Was Vic only imagining the affection in Amani’s voice because he wanted to hear it? “Why are you calling me?”
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any problems this morning, and you made it to work all right.” Vic leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting himself just relax and listen. “Sorry I left without saying anything. Early mornings are the only time I can get anything done in peace around here, but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s fine. The alarm woke me in time, although we’re playing hooky from work. By the way, your apartment concierge’s halal menu is pathetic.”
Vic chuckled. “I’ll have to talk to them about fixing that.”
“I don’t think I’ll be eating many meals there.”
“No? I can hope.”
Amani’s softly indrawn breath was audible over the line, before he asked, “…what’s the real reason you called me, Vic?”
“I just wanted to,” he admitted. “You’ve been on my mind all day.” Then, hastily, he hurried on, adding, “It’s for the sake of my employees, really. I’ve been a cranky shit all morning.”
“Ah. And talking to me calms you down, is it?”
“Music to soothe the savage beast. Your voice, I mean.”
“I got it.”
“I’m sticking my foot in my mouth again, aren’t I?”
Despite his cool tone, an edge of laughter softened Amani’s voice. “Some people have a kink for that.”
“I don’t know if that’s one of mine yet, but then you’d know.”
“I know you like being called my sweet boy.”
Two words. Two words, and his pulse skipped hot and wild, fire creeping down his neck, his suit suddenly feeling too tight and the breath knocked out of him in a quick gasp. Those soft silken syllables had practically licked against his cock, and he closed his eyes, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.