Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 806(@200wpm)___ 645(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Scott pressed his forehead to Tad’s and smiled. “But Max did give me the green light to use his playroom, and the night ain’t getting any younger.”
Tad grinned and bit his lip. “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”
Scott growled and captured his mouth. “No idea.”
TWENTY-SIX
… Eight… Nine… Ten.
Sean eased himself down by his tight grip on the rings, transitioning from handstand push-ups to an iron cross position. Hold it.
One…Two… Three…
God, the burn. In his shoulders. Through his torso. A sensation he hated as much as he loved. Today its familiarity was a comfort—and the only thing intense enough to distract him. From the chaos in his head, and the ache in his heart. And the number one reason he was currently at the fitness center. To get his mind off of Max, even if only for a little while, so he could finally get some much needed mental relief.
Slowly, he raised himself up onto locked elbows and began a set of tucks and L-sits. Up came his knees until they touched his chest, then he extended his legs straight out in front of him. Hold it.
One… Two… Three…
Now his abs burned, too. Good. The more pain the merrier. Or rather, the more effective—at keeping his thoughts averted. Or so went in theory, anyway. Truth was, a lot of things helped to side-track him. Just not for very long. Because ultimately, the reason he was doing these things to begin always circled back around within minutes.
Like it was doing right now, goddamn it.
Sean growled, fighting it back, the anger, the hurt, and lowered himself back down, then extended his arms out to either side of him. More iron cross torment. More delicious searing pain, lancing through his entire upper body. His thoughts of Max wavered, his body competing for his attention.
Yes. What he wanted. What he desperately fucking needed.
Again, he transitioned, slowly shifting his weight until his body stretched out horizontally behind him. The Maltese cross. One of his favorites. Probably because it’d been such a bitch to master.
One… two… three… four…
His arms trembled under the strain, his jaw clenched in concentration. His heart pounded feverishly to keep up.
His thoughts shot back again, like a goddamn rubber band; pulled as far away from reality as possible, only to snap back with one hell of a sting.
Max.
Sean hated him. And missed him. And hated that he missed him. For fuck’s sake, it was only Thursday. Only three days since Max decided to go all dickhead-of-the-century.
He exhaled roughly and rolled forward and up, pushing into an inverted cross. But his focus had already been irrevocably compromised. He needed to get down before he fell. Sean scowled, falling into a round of rapid flips before dismounting back down to the ground. The instant he landed, he broke into a pace, stalking back and forth atop the small stretch of mats.
Mad. He was just so motherfucking mad. And leveled. Still so crushingly leveled. Never had he ever felt such penetrating pain.
Thanks so much for this lovely first, Max.
Sean stopped abruptly to scrub his face. To calm his breathing. To try and get a fucking grip. If he didn’t find a way to get Max out of his brain, he was going to flat-out fail all his finals. Because he couldn’t fucking concentrate, couldn’t focus on his studies. Only the war raging on in his head. The one between the side of him that wanted to kick Max’s ass and the side that wanted to hug Max until Max kicked his ass.
Which was absolutely asinine. Sean knew it was. But the fact of the matter was, Max’s asshole move on Monday hadn’t made him suddenly forget why the guy behaved that way. It was simply Max’s greatest attempt yet to circumvent his feelings for Sean. Because no matter what Max said or did, he cared for Sean. Wanted him. Sean knew he did. Just wished Max had used punching gloves instead of daggers. Sean could’ve recuperated from those quicker. But he supposed that’s why Max went the route he had. To knock Sean out cold. Put him on his ass in a way that he’d never get back up from. At least where Max was concerned.
Well, congratulations, Sir. Job well done.
Sean was still out for the count, even now.
He clenched his teeth and fell back into pacing. Although, it probably looked more like he was stalking. Because even though he understood what Max was doing and why, he still wanted to punch the guy in the jaw. Add to that collection of bruises he had going. Although, honestly, he’d rather punch Max in the chest. Return the favor with a taste of his own medicine.
Scowling, Sean swiped up a towel from his duffle and toweled off his tense, sweaty body. No point in torturing himself with the rings anymore. They weren’t nearly as distracting as he’d hoped they’d be, and it was a school night, so, yeah, why not leave.