Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 589(@200wpm)___ 471(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
“Beck.” He speaks quietly, like he’s saying you don’t have to make a joke.
But it’s not a joke. There were so many times when I fervently hoped the coroner had misidentified the body.
“I didn’t realize how hard it would be, his not being there. It walloped me like an anvil in the gut. I’d never see him in the stands again. We’d never have dinner. We’d never fish, go camping, or cook together. We’d never talk. I was a mess. I didn’t expect it to hit me so hard after the game.” I stop, needing a moment to let the ache in my throat abate. “That’s why I didn’t show. I was a wreck.”
I stare down at my shoes. I can’t meet Jason’s eyes. I’m sure he’ll think he dodged a bullet with me. He’ll think I’m some broken guy.
“I had no idea,” he says, so somber, so tender, that I do lift my gaze. “I should have looked you up online. I should have tried to understand you.”
Jason looks devastated. For me.
“It’s fine. You didn’t need to research me,” I say, exonerating him.
He parts his lips, blows out a harsh breath, then shakes his head in frustration. “I was an asshole last week. I didn’t give you a chance to say what happened to you and losing your brother has to be so fucking hard.” Jason drags a hand through his hair like he wants to redo that moment. “I just assumed I knew your deal, and I was all wrong. And here you were, going through some serious shit.”
A part of me will always miss Griffin. I’m sure there will always be a part of me that’s hollow too. But I do understand why Jason made assumptions. I said nothing, and he filled my silence with his own story. “I should have said something to you that night. Or the next day. Even in text. But, I just . . . couldn’t.”
Jason shakes his head adamantly. “No. You’re good. I get it. Because I don’t know what I would do if I lost my brother. He’s my hero.” Then he closes the distance, widens his arms, and offers me a hug.
Ohhh.
That’s a one-eighty.
Do I want a hug from the guy I’m wildly attracted to? I think . . . yeah . . . I do. I inch closer, letting him know my answer with my body.
The second his arms wrap around me in a warm embrace, my emotions shift. Or, perhaps, they transpose. The remnants of grief slink away as the past slides out the door. Wanders far, far into the distance.
Jason’s strong arms hold me tight. His chest is flush against mine. He smells so good. Clean and soapy and a little like sunshine. That must be his shampoo, and it goes to my head.
It fries my circuits.
His heart beats against my chest. I press my cheek against his ear. Does he like his earlobe being nibbled on? Does he think about what we might have done at his home that night? Would he want me to have kissed his neck, hard and rough, the way he likes it?
He’s not letting go, so maybe his answer is the same as mine.
Yes.
When he wraps his arms tighter, I’m only in the moment.
“I wanted to go to your house. I wanted to see you again,” I whisper into the cavernous quiet of the stairwell.
Jason makes a shuddery sound, a rumble from deep in his chest. Then slowly lets go, unwinding the embrace step by step until his hands are on my shoulders. He’s an inch or two taller, and he locks eyes with me.
Yes.
I grab his chin, and I crush my lips to his. He doesn’t fuck around either. He kisses me fiercely—a deep, hot kiss that makes my bones buzz. He kisses with a wild sort of need. With hungry moans and sensual sighs. Like we’ve both craved this since we saw each other at the gym last week. Hell, I’ve craved it since I first touched him. Since the night in his kitchen.
My hand slides around to the back of his head, and I drag him closer. Our hard-ons bump, and it’s mind-bendingly good. With a throaty groan, Jason spins us around so he’s pushing me against the concrete wall. He slams his pelvis to mine.
I gasp, breaking the kiss to let loose a deep, needy sigh.
Then, he’s swiveling his hips, rocking them against me.
And wow.
I’ve never experienced anything like this. Never had a kiss where someone tells me so clearly he wants to fuck.
He grinds and presses, confident, determined, moving his hips in a sensual rhythm that will make it impossible for me to think of anything when I’m alone but his body, his hips, his cock.
The hard, throbbing length of him pushing against me.
He never stops kissing me.