Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Fox sighed, setting his pen down on the desk.
He had made an agreement.
And he did honor his agreements.
With an irritated sound in the back of his throat, he stood, crooking his finger. “Well, come here. I’m not kissing you across the damned desk again,” he muttered.
Summer’s head came up so sharply his hair actually flopped back from those wide, brightening blue eyes, before he tumbled out of the chair and stood as if coming to attention.
“Where—I—should I—”
Fox closed his eyes.
“Hellfire,” he growled, stepped around the desk, hooked his arm around Summer’s waist, and jerked him in to kiss him.
He didn’t mean to be rough—but there was something annoying about Summer, something that got under his skin and frustrated Fox until he felt like he was punishing Summer with that kiss, abusing his mouth in hard, hot caresses that only barely waited to ask permission, waited for the low moan and the slack softness of Summer’s mouth to invite him in before he invaded, searching deep as if he could find whatever it was that made Summer so persistent, so irritating, so...so...
Intoxicating.
There was something intoxicating about the way Summer’s body molded to his; about the taut, lithe strength hidden beneath the crispness of his shirt, his slacks, those shoulders firm and tapering down to a narrow waist, slim hips. About the way Summer had to just barely rise up on his toes to reach, leaving him leaning harder still against Fox; about the way his hands caught at Fox’s arms just above the elbows, snared in the sleeves of his shirt, held on tight.
He was so warm.
And so completely, sweetly submissive, as Fox caught Summer’s lower lip between his teeth and pulled it into his mouth to taste him, to tease him, to suckle and bite and nibble until the flesh turned warmer still in his mouth, tender and giving to every bite while Summer let out soft, helpless, hungry sounds that did absolutely terrible things to Fox’s constitution. His control.
His restraint, as he let his fingers fall to dig into Summer’s hips, and pulled the aggravating young thing into him.
No room between them. No space for breath, for hesitation, for doubt when Summer gave himself over so willingly with a deep, husky moan—but suddenly he was shoving Fox back, pushing him with his body, challenging him with the pressure of flesh to flesh as he nudged Fox until his hips hit the desk and he slid back, settling atop the cherrywood, and Summer angled his hips between his knees—ah.
Ah.
Fox let his thighs spread, flanking Summer’s hips.
And as Summer leaned into him, pressed flush...
Ah, God.
The heavy, hard ridge of arousal was unmistakable, and the answering heat in Iseya was undeniable, a raw hot burst of throbbing pressure rising against his slacks, sliding against Summer until they were chest to chest, hip to hip, cock to cock, and their tongues twined in slow, deep mimicry of the subtle rhythmic movements between them, suggestive and hot and oh-so-slick, oh-so-enticing.
And Summer’s hands were on his waist, fingers strong and warm through his shirt, teasing against his skin in sensitive shudders as Summer’s soft luscious mouth begged with its wetness, with its warmth, with the delicious low sounds that slid between them each time their lips came together, locked, parted again before twined tongues drew them back in to taste deeper and deeper still, breaths lost between them and everything in Fox burning.
This was hell.
This was hell, and he was combusting in this damnable flame, and he wanted to hate every minute of it—the betrayal of it, the riot of his body and this quiet buried starved need for contact, for affection, for heat, the guilt of his traitor heart that wanted so much it almost didn’t care who even if the who wasn’t her.
No—no, that was the even deeper curse of it.
He did care who.
He just didn’t want to care that who was this young man who brought the same brightness as his name, this heat that illuminated everything beneath a wild and singing summer sun.
Gasping, Fox tore his mouth away from Summer’s, threading his fingers into Summer’s hair just to stop that needy, seeking mouth from following his; he didn’t remember closing his eyes, didn’t remember losing himself in the dark, but now he opened them, looking at Summer and that mouth turned into a bruise and a bloodstain and a bursting ripe fruit, glistening with Fox’s own touch.
Summer looked...
He looked like everything Fox had forgotten how to feel, captured in the graceful line of his jaw and the flutter of his pulse making his throat move in quick-sharp tremors and the way he looked at Iseya with eyes that were midnight in the brightness of his day, full of all the secrets and promises and intimacies that midnight could bring.
Too much.
Summer was too much, and even if Fox’s body hurt with how electrified he was, how hard, how hungry...