Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Hey, I ain’t holding your hand,” he said. “That’s third base, at least.”
He reached his hands up at the end of the entryway, stretching his arms up above the archway. Even in the unlit house, I could see his muscled arms.
“Not even going to ask what first base is,” I mumbled, turning the other way and heading toward the kitchen.
“Gagging on my cock.”
“Shut up,” I said.
“I’m just saving you from becoming a freak lightning-strike statistic.”
I’d decided that I hated 21-year-olds.
I looked around in the low light, flipping more light switches even though I knew it was futile. “Sometimes the power is out for a couple of hours if a storm is bad enough. Let me go find some candles.”
“Candlelight. How romantic.”
“Only the best for you, Daddy,” I tossed back at him.
It was supposed to be a joke, but instead of coming out as a bitter barb, it ended up sounding… hot.
Hot in a way that I definitely didn’t want to feel right now.
“Quit calling me that,” he said. “Don’t need a hard cock right now when you’re not going to let me use it.”
I hate him.
Why can’t he just go home?
It was hard enough to be around him in the bar without being turned on by every goddamn thing he did or said.
But now that we were alone together… even when he was joking around, his low voice was so sexy I practically wanted to gnaw on my own fist. I wanted him to get the fuck out of here before I slipped up, dropped my guard, and did something that I’d regret.
I’d decided that whatever version of me thought that I wasn’t attracted to younger guys was colossally fucking stupid, too. If he wasn’t related to Kane, I was pretty sure I’d want him to fuck me just from the sound of his voice. Somehow, he had my favorite kind of BDE: Big Daddy Energy, even at 21. Most guys twice his age barely had his calm confidence.
Hell, he had the other kind of BDE, too. Big dick energy, which was…
No.
Banned.
Note to self: shove every last thought like that where the fucking sun don’t shine.
I popped on the flashlight on my phone and walked into the kitchen. I always kept big candles around for outages and because I liked my place to smell like goddamn vanilla-scented heaven, and it made me feel like I was in a spa. I found a few of the nicest ones and lit them, scattering them around the kitchen.
I quickly ran upstairs to change into dry clothes, then came back down to find Jesse still gawking around the kitchen.
“Shit,” Jesse said, looking all around. “Well, if we do end up murdering each other, at least it’s in a nice place. You didn’t tell me your house was this pretty. What were you thinking I’d make fun of?”
His eyes scanned the candlelit room quickly. Before I could reach the end of the kitchen counter, Jesse’s eyes landed there.
My insides went molten.
There was a book on the counter. Earlier, I’d been sitting at the end of my breakfast bar, reading the latest self-help book I’d gotten: How to Love Yourself, No Matter What.
“Aww, Mason,” Jesse said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about that. Why do the most lovable people always seem to hate themselves?”
“But it’s not just—”
“Oh,” he said, his eyes glancing to the side.
Next to the book there were multiple photos of me, too. Shirtless photos that I’d printed out, where I was looking out at the camera with my best sultry gaze.
“I can explain,” I told him.
He held up his hands. “No, no need—”
“There’s a section in the book that says if you look at photos of yourself every day, and think loving thoughts, that you’ll end up loving yourself more. I promise I don’t just look at my own pictures for no reason. And, let’s be real, I don’t even think the experiment is working, anyway.”
I snatched up the book and shoved the pictures inside. I went over and slid it onto a bookshelf near the living room.
When I walked back, he was looking at me with satisfaction all over his face.
“Cute,” Jesse said.
My skin was still hot. “Are you done yet?”
He walked around the kitchen and started to open the cabinets, checking them until he found the pantry.
“Good selection. I’m surprised,” he said.
“Who said you could root around in my cabinets? And you think I wouldn’t have good food?”
Jesse was looking around in every nook and cranny, making himself at home as if we’d been friends for years. I felt strangely exposed and amused at the same time. People always told me that they never knew what I was going to do next, but right now Jesse had turned the tables on me.
A strange sort of yearning flooded me as I watched him, so carefree, moving around my kitchen.