Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He really was a shameless slut. But in that moment, Hop couldn’t care less. They were tangled up in each other, sharing air and heat and daring promise.
Rafe’s lips were firm and powerful, his tongue, practiced and exciting. And damn, Rafe’s taste was life itself, both forbidden and necessary. If Hop didn’t get another hit, he might die.
One of Rafe’s large palms grabbed Hop’s ass while the other wrapped up in his hair. With that grip, he maneuvered Hop exactly how he wanted and all Hop could do was hold on for the ride. He was enveloped in Rafe’s embrace and he’d never felt more protected or more desired.
Shit. The truth of that thought hit him like a cold wave. What was he doing? His heart skidded sideways. Hop blinked his eyes open as sanity swept through him along with the winter breeze. This time when he shoved, Rafe shifted away.
“Did I hurt you?” He seemed disoriented.
Hurt him? No, not physically at least. Rafe had never used his strength against him, but there were other ways to harm someone. And sometimes they cut deeper than physical wounds ever could.
Rafe had showed a young Hop what it meant to be dependable. He’d made a naive and troubled young teenager believe there’d always be someone there to protect him. And then he’d disappeared without any explanation and broken him more surely than Roland ever could have. Hop had harbored a youthful and pathetic crush on his savior back then, but he wasn’t young or tragic any longer.
“You’re not going to tell me how it was a mistake?” Now that there was space between them, the chill sank through Hop’s thin clothes.
“Was it?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who stopped first.” Rafe tilted his head and crossed his arms.
Yeah, Hop had stopped because he’d gone too deep, too fast. “Look.” He tossed his hair. “Whatever you may think of me, I’ve never done married men, okay? That’s where I draw the line.” Technically his mother hadn’t been his father’s mistress, but her experience had taught Hop a few lessons.
“Who told you I was married?”
“You’re not?”
“No, I’ve never even been engaged. Where the hell is that idea coming from?”
Hop didn’t really have an answer that wouldn’t betray old wounds, so he kept quiet.
“Is that the only reason you pushed me away?”
No, it was just the handiest excuse. Now that it was gone, Hop was left hanging in the frozen wind.
He was still the stupid kid who’d hidden behind garbage cans watching his crush kiss a girl and aching for something he hadn’t understood at the time—that sense of freedom that came with offering himself to a master to be used.
“I need to get home,” he said, turning away. He skirted the crowd and slipped into the dressing room where he’d left his bag and coat. As he left the club, he couldn’t ignore the pang of disappointment in his chest.
Rafe hadn’t followed him.
Chapter Fourteen
Despite the fact that getting involved with Hop was a terrible business decision, Rafe couldn’t get that kiss out of his head. For once in his life, he wanted something that wasn’t about contracts and acquisitions or protecting his responsibilities.
He wanted something for himself.
Selfish.
But he was too fucking gone to step back from this particular ride.
That night he’d acted on impulse and everything that followed had knocked him on his ass and left him spinning. Jealousy, possessiveness, and overwhelming lust was a mix too powerful to withstand, breaking his good intentions.
That kiss, full of pent-up frustrations and threads of anger, had been brutal. Vulnerability and yearning simmered under the surface of their lips and tangled tongues. Rafe had been drunk on it all, the taste of Hop—his scent.
Christ, he still smelled strawberries every time he closed his fucking eyes.
Hop’s resistance melted away as if it had been instinctual. Nothing mattered in that cold dark moment except the heat they produced together. Rafe lost all sense.
All control.
He hadn’t been ready to let go. He hadn’t been capable of reason. So he’d watched Hop runaway when his inclination was to tether and secure and restrict.
Somewhere between then and now, he’d accepted this thing between them wasn’t going away. He was done wallowing in the what-ifs and could-bes, done worrying about things that might never happen.
For once, he was going to jump without looking.
Hell, he took risks every day. They just usually came with legal paperwork and insurance policies.
Starting something with Hop could blow up in his face, but fuck he wanted another taste of those strawberry lips. He wanted to figure out what had happened to change the kid he used to know into the intriguing man he was now.
His body and mind had already claimed Hop.
Now all he had to do was confront the object of his desire with a choice. Simple really.