Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Jesus, what was he doing?
Dry humping your date in a public parking lot like an oversexed teen.
It was already better than any sex in recent memory, but that wasn’t the point. Oliver said one kiss. That’s all. One kiss.
“We need to stop,” he grunted, his zipper digging into his painful erection doing nothing to slow down his thrusts. “You said you wanted to be smart. To be friends. I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.”
Don’t regret this.
Oliver’s legs tightened around him. “Friends, right,” he echoed, breathless. “Friends can help each other out, can’t they? Give each other a hand?”
He slipped his between their bodies, unzipping Matthew’s jeans with a speed and skill that might have made him jealous if it wasn’t such a fucking relief. And then— “Oliver?”
He swore when Oliver’s fingers tightened around his thick shaft. “Oh, Matthew. Look what I found.”
“It wasn’t really hiding. And is this what you call kissing?” He tilted his head back, trying not to shout as Oliver stroked him off. God, he was ready to burst.
Not here. Not here.
He gripped the back of Oliver’s neck hard and saw those big eyes dilate. “If so, we’re going to need to get to a bed as soon as possible so I can kiss you back.”
Oliver was licking his lips, his grip tightening until Matthew found the will to remove his hand. “Where?” he asked urgently.
“Your place? It has to be your place,” Oliver breathed raggedly.
Matthew lived in Seamus Finn’s old house with his sister. If she were home, she’d give him hell for bringing anyone home, let alone a man. Loud, mood-killing hell.
Oliver’s erection slid against his again, the denim dragging along his bare cock enough to set him on fire and make the decision for him. He’d have to risk Calamity’s ire.
“My place works.”
They kissed again until Oliver started laughing breathlessly against his mouth. “We’re going to get arrested.”
It took Matthew a full minute to respond. “I’ve got connections. My cousin is the chief of police.”
But he released Oliver and raked shaking fingers through his hair.
“Of course he is.” Oliver slid off the hood, holding on to the car as if his legs were made of rubber. “I can’t leave Ruben’s car behind. It’s his baby. Give me the address and I’ll follow you.”
Matthew paused in the act of zipping up his pants to reach for Oliver again. “Not changing your mind again, are you?”
His smile was sinful. “You’ll get your kiss tonight, Matthew. I’ll be right behind you.”
Somehow, he managed to step away from temptation with a nod and walk stiffly to his car, calling out his street address as he rounded the hood.
He drove home on automatic pilot, half his attention on the Impala’s headlights in his rearview, the other trying to get his arousal under control.
This was happening. Despite Oliver’s hesitation and Matthew’s nerves. He didn’t fool himself. He knew Oliver had originally kissed him to stop him from asking questions he didn’t want to answer. He’d been changing the subject or using their chemistry as a shield all night.
He recognized that bob and weave since he’d used it himself. Surface information only, no digging allowed. Keep your distance. Oliver was showing all the signs of a man trying to protect himself from being hurt. From getting involved. Matthew respected that, but he couldn’t accept it. Not this time.
Oliver hadn’t been prepared for the chemistry between them to ignite like that. Once the kiss started, he’d been as lost in it as Matthew was, his body demanding they take what they were feeling to its natural conclusion.
That was enough for now.
It would be up to him to convince Oliver that he wanted more than one night. A hell of a lot more. His new mission was Operation Legs. As far as he was concerned, his fate had been sealed, and every minute he spent with Oliver only made things clearer in his mind.
This was his guy. He knew it. The one.
Matthew grinned. He’d thought it would be more of a struggle. He didn’t believe in love, right? He was the cynical member of his family. The sensible Finn.
What a laugh.
He was more like his brother than either of them knew. William had told Matthew he’d wanted to marry Bronte the second he laid eyes on her in the emergency room. That she’d been glaring at him in her dinosaur scrubs, and he’d known she was the right one for him. The only one.
What was happening between him and Oliver wasn’t logical. It wasn’t even smart. The Finns would be fine with it, but would the Garcias? Maybe not after what Oliver had told him.
You’re getting way ahead of yourself, man. You screwed up the date and he gave you a pass. That doesn’t mean you’ll ever meet his family. You might not even make it to breakfast.