Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
He stops the car to pause extra long at a crosswalk when an old lady hobbles by on a walker. He smiles out through the window at her, giving her a polite wave.
The same man who was just standing like a stone, witnessing murders.
The man who is supposed to protect me.
7
Roman
Back at Onyx House, my frustration rises to a fever pitch with Tate.
After getting back, I head upstairs and rinse off in the shower. When I head back down, I find Tate in the front room with Hunter, Rayne, and Ollie, and all of the guys are doubled over laughing at some story Tate is telling them.
He’s astonishingly quick to make friends, and far too quick to pretend his life isn’t important.
When he found out the truth about me, he handled it well.
Better than expected, honestly.
But now he’s doing that thing again where he looks like a ray of sunshine, even though I know he’s fucking freaking out deep inside.
I need to talk to him.
One on one.
But I won’t pull him away from this impromptu social gathering he seems so fond of, either.
The guys wave at me as I grab my heavy Advanced Physio textbook from the pile in the corner, and I take one of the armchairs by the fire, cracking open the book.
I don’t know if I intend to actually study or not, but it doesn’t work.
For another two hours, I idly listen as Hunter, Rayne, and Ollie all grill Tate with curious questions about his life.
He talks about New York, about his brother, about his childhood growing up with a famous pro football player as a father.
I keep my head tucked down, pretending to read.
But when Tate describes the sexual awakening he had when he first started sleeping with men instead of just women, my cock responds like a fucking traitor under my pants.
He’s filterless, as usual.
Telling the guys how badly he needs to get fucked, and making them laugh.
And I’ve never wanted to punish him with my cock more.
I don’t want him to go get fucked by some random stranger.
It’s not safe.
I want to stride across the room, unzip, and shut him up by sliding every inch of myself past his lips.
Is that what you crave so badly, Tate?
Provoking me until I give it to you?
Finally, Niko arrives home, and the other guys join him to go get dinner outside of the house.
After two long hours, it’s just me and him in the front room.
My phone lights up on the armrest of my chair, and I glance over to see that it’s from Tate.
“Why message me, when we are in the same room?” I ask.
“Just read it.”
Blondin
If I get up to leave, are you going to worry I’m fleeing?
I set down my phone.
“No. Just go.”
He gets up and takes off down the hall, and a moment later I close my textbook and follow after him.
It turns out he was only going to the kitchen.
I catch a whiff of his scent the moment I step inside, and like an untamed animal, my cock thickens again as I step near him.
He has my Cognac bottle in his hand, tipping it back against his lips, and I watch the smooth curve of his neck while he drinks my liquor.
Fuck.
I should have fed the beast while I had the chance.
Upstairs.
I could have taken care of this in the shower earlier and made this stupid fucking persistent hard-on go away, but instead I came downstairs and spent hours in that room with him.
“You said you wouldn’t follow me,” Tate says.
“I never, ever said anything close to that.”
“Fine. But you said I could leave.”
“You can, anytime you want. But I will be with you.”
He drinks another shot of my Cognac, straight from the goddamn bottle, then puts it down.
I lift an eyebrow at him as I reach for the dark brown bottle on the kitchen countertop, giving him a look.
“See? Everyone commits crimes.”
Tate watches me take a swig from the bottle now, and his eyes glance over my neck, my Adam’s apple as I swallow, then trail down lower to look at my chest.
Does he have to make it so fucking obvious he wants me?
Hates me, yes.
But wants me, all the same.
Because anyone who learns the truth about me knows that I’m only a good person on the outside, not the inside. I’m sure Tate thinks that now, too.
“You think I’m committing a crime?” he asks.
“You’re not allowed to drink. Not even twenty-one yet,” I tell him. “And look at you, with my Cognac on your tongue.”
“Fuck off,” he mutters.
I see a pink flush creep along his neck.
I didn’t bother putting on a shirt after I rinsed off upstairs in the shower and tossed on a pair of dark denim pants. He’s still giving me the same faraway look he has been all night.