Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Oh. Oh.” Maddox’s voice broke.
“Yeah, that’s it. Come on.” Ben wasn’t sure who he was urging anymore, and his cock was rifle-barrel hard against the back of the chair. His hips moved of their own volition, rocking into the slick leather.
Canaan went deeper, spit running down his chin, eyes closed, cheeks hollowing. Fuck, he was hot. But what was truly hot were the sounds coming from Maddox’s throat. Little pleas and begging. His hands clenched the chair arms, and his shoulders were rigid under Ben’s touch.
“Come for me,” Ben whispered. “Do it, Mad. Let go.”
“Oh fu—fuck.” Maddox’s hips bucked upward and his eyes rolled back. Reducing Maddox to curses was an accomplishment indeed, and Ben grinned. Reaching up, Maddox grabbed his hand, held it tight as his body shook and Canaan swallowed.
God, Ben wanted to taste that. His hips continued to move as saliva pooled in his mouth. He needed... Oh fuck. He needed Maddox. Needed him in the worst way. And he couldn’t... Fuck. Without warning, his body erupted, coming in his pants like a teenager, coming from nothing more than Maddox’s hand linked with his, the sound of Maddox coming, and the rub of his groin against the chair.
“Ben.” Maddox licked his lips, eyes searching. Kiss him. Ben knew he’d let him, knew he wanted it, but somehow couldn’t do it, not with Canaan’s eyes riveted to both of them.
Present
Now, with twilight dancing through the leaves of the jungle, the fact that Ben had never once kissed Maddox weighed heavily on him. He’d seen him come, knew the sounds he made, knew the taste of sweat on his skin, but didn’t know his mouth. Might never—
No. Can’t think like that. They were making it out of the jungle alive. They had to.
“Tovey.” Maddox’s voice was a harsh whisper, nothing like the passion-filled memories clouding Ben’s brain. “Ben. I need...need a break. I know we’re not to the clearing yet—”
“We’re close enough,” Ben lied. “Let’s find a good hiding spot and get you some rest and more water.”
“We should...talk.” Maddox’s words were way more slurred than Ben liked to hear. This wasn’t good. He led him to a dense clump of ferns, the large fronds brushing against his uniform, making a hiding spot for them in the middle of it.
“Oh, trust me, I’m keeping you awake.” Ben forced himself to be light and easy. “Gonna yammer on about soccer scores and make you tell me about recipes—”
“Ben.” Maddox’s voice was soft, and Ben couldn’t tell if there was disappointment or simply exhaustion there. “We can’t keep doing this.”
And even without knowing whether Maddox meant their trek or their friendship, that was exactly what Ben was afraid of. Something had to give. And soon.
Chapter Seven
Maddox was an optimist. It was part of what drove his teammates and friends nuts, but it was also what got him out of funks. It would have been easy to give up on his dreams when his family found out about Grayson, but optimism that they’d come around had carried him a good decade, letting the reality of their rejection settle in slowly. And he’d never wavered in his belief that he and Ben would make it through SEAL training. And when he thought about his future after the teams, he was strong in his conviction that he could make that vision come true too.
However, sweat ran down his face, mingling with blood and mud, and his strength was rapidly fading, making optimism in short supply. He took the mud-encrusted FN SCAR rifle from Ben—he used an M39 or other sniper rifle himself, but he was plenty familiar with the SCAR. Ever since his dad and grandfather had taken him out shooting in preparation for his first hunting trip with the men of the family, he hadn’t met a gun yet that he couldn’t shoot. But guns and thick mud didn’t exactly play nice, and Maddox would give up his shiny new mixer back home if it meant he could be somewhere warm and dry cleaning this gun up properly.
His hands shook, which wasn’t a good sign, and his vision was all sorts of wonky, which was a worse one, and trying to hide both those things from Ben was a losing battle.
“Don’t worry about it.” Ben stilled Maddox’s hand on the gun, covering it with his own. “I can mess with it in a bit. Let’s see if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
Feel the way I do. Stop being so...you. Get over Trey. Yeah, none of those things were happening, so Maddox just grunted.
“Let’s get you down before you fall down.” Maddox didn’t miss Ben’s grimace as they worked together to lower him down. Ben was hurting too.
“Do you want to cut away more of my uniform to wrap your ribs? You could have my T-shirt,” Maddox offered, unsteady fingers going toward his buttons.