Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He couldn’t tear his eyes off Tate even as he listened to Dot. Watching him this way, with such focused, hungry attention, came too close to crossing the line. If he wasn’t careful, Dot, or worse, Randy and Daryl would notice the desire in his gaze.
But he couldn’t stop.
“It’s the hatred,” Dot said, and those might have been the only words capable of pulling his focus from Tate.
Liam glanced down to find her also watching the man they spoke about. She had a soft fondness in her gaze.
“They hate everyone,” she said. “Always have. My Henry and I lived in the same trailer park they did when those boys were kids. There is so much hate, especially of those different from them.” She sighed. “Guess it’s hard to raise children who can love when you don’t love yourself.” She patted his arm. “You have yourself a good week, Liam. Thank you for today. I’ve had the most fun since my date with Roger a few months ago.”
He nodded but couldn’t speak. His attention was already back on Tate, who extended a hand to Dot as she walked toward the shuttle.
Instead of answering his hundreds of questions about Tate, his family, and life, she’d only added to the mountain.
What had his childhood been like?
What was Mrs. Snow referring to when talking about his mother?
How did he pull himself from a pit of darkness and hatred to become the man he was today?
And would he ever chance revealing his authentic self to the world?
CHAPTER NINE
WITH ONLY ONE day left on the studio’s tiling project, Tate could feel his chances to be with Liam slipping through his fingers. How many times over the past week had there been an opportunity to sneak into a corner and take a hit of Liam’s sweetness? How many evenings did he think about texting the man whose number he’d stolen off the work order? How many nights had he laid in his bed alone with his hard dick in his hand and Liam’s name on his lips?
All. Of. Them.
Countless times, he’d thought about driving back to the studio after dinner. His cock had been hard more often than not ever since he’d stumbled upon Liam dancing with a bunch of batty old ladies.
He needed his head examined because there’d been nothing sexy about that day, yet every time he pictured the joy on Liam’s face, he got horny as hell. The man in his element was the most beautiful thing Tate had ever seen.
He craved more of Liam’s kisses, fantasized about the way their dicks felt sliding against each other, and dreamed of what it would feel like to glide into his flawless ass.
There wasn’t anything he wanted more than skin on skin with Liam.
And what did he do about it?
Nothing.
Not a damn thing.
Tate did hookups. Quick and dirty hookups where he could bust a nut and get the hell out before any risk of discovery. Liam might have started that way, but he no longer looked at the dancer the same. If he touched Liam again, they’d be starting something. What? He had no fucking clue, but something more than a hookup.
The idea of being with Liam appealed to him on a level he’d never allowed himself to tap into. But it also terrified him to his very soul. Liam thought he understood the risk if Tate were outed, but he’d led a charmed life. He’d grown up in New York, where he’d never had to fear for his physical safety from the people who claimed to love him if they found out he preferred fucking men.
But by the end of the week, when he’d had to see Liam’s beautiful face every single day, Tate broke. If he didn’t get his hand on the man before night’s end, he’d fucking implode. He wanted Liam, but he didn’t want it to be the same quick orgasms against a bathroom wall. They should be able to take their time. He didn’t know how Liam’s nipples felt against his tongue or what his balls tasted like. He had no idea how tight Liam would squeeze him as he finger-fucked his ass—though he had a feeling it’d be damn fucking tight. Maybe they should hang out, too, before devouring each other or even after.
He could do that, right? Maybe share a meal or watch a movie?
It might be nice to hang out with someone besides his idiot friends. Someone like him. Someone who could show him how to just be.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he jogged out of his trailer and over to Randy’s. “Yo, Rand, you here?” he asked as he pounded on the door.
“What do you want, fucker?” came the reply.
Chuckling, he let himself in to find his brother sitting on the couch in a pair of cutoff jean shorts and nothing else. He had a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.