Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
The only person we’ve seen in days is Jamie when she came by to drop off Harley’s phone charger I may or may not have forgotten to put in his bag.
It’s given us the opportunity to connect in a way I don’t fully understand, but I do know I want more of it.
I kiss my way along Harley’s naked shoulder. We’re lying on our sides, me spooning him, and my hand skims his stomach, brushing over the head of his cock.
He moans but doesn’t open his eyes. “How long will we be holed up in this hotel room?”
“Until they find Webber.”
“That could be weeks.” Harley doesn’t sound too upset about that.
I kiss the back of his head. “Could be.”
“What an absolute shame.” He reaches behind him, gripping the back of my head and pulling me closer.
Our morning breaths mingle, but I don’t give a shit. I kiss him hard. Our tongues tangle, and Harley rolls over to face me.
“Is this your plan? Distract me for weeks with your mouth and your dick?”
“Has it been working?”
“It has. To a degree.”
I climb on top of him. “I’m gonna have to up my game, then. You want my ass again?”
“You’re such a cock slut.” He squeezes my ass cheek.
“Mmm, maybe you should call me that while you’re balls-deep inside me.” I reach for the lube, but when I come back to Harley, he’s staring up at me with a serious expression.
“Do you … like, prefer that? Bottoming, I mean. Not being called a slut.”
“I like both those things.”
“If you don’t want to top—”
“Topping isn’t my first choice, never has been, but I get in the mood every now and then. Like when I want to show a certain someone what he means to me.” I lean in and kiss his cheek.
There goes another one of Harley’s imperfect smiles. “You showed me real good.”
“You recover from that okay?” I smirk.
“I’m just going to say it. It’s a good thing you like bottoming because I think I can only handle your weapon of ass destruction every once in a while.”
I lose myself laughing. “Weapon of …” I laugh more.
“It’s not a total exaggeration.”
“You’re adorable.”
We go back to kissing, and Harley’s hard cock beneath me is more than an invitation. I want to blow him and get him so achingly needy for my ass, he’ll be begging for it.
I make my way down his body, teasing him, going as slow as I can. We have all the time in the world to—
There’s a knock at the door. “Room service.”
I look up at Harley. “Did you order room service in your sleep?”
“If you’d asked me that nine years ago, the answer could have been yes, but not this time. Maybe Gideon did for us?”
“Wait here.”
It’s amazing how fast an erection can die. I grab a robe and throw it over my naked body.
My Glock sits on the dresser, so I take that with me too.
Through the peephole in the door, I only see a cart of food. Either no one’s there or they’re purposefully staying out of sight.
I open it a crack, keeping my gun ready, but there’s no one there. At all. I move the cart out of the way and step into the corridor.
No one.
There’s a card next to the food that says From Joystar Records.
I put the safety on my gun and check under the cart and around it for anything suspicious, but when I find nothing, I pull the cart into the room, more confused than ever.
Under the cloches is an array of foods. Bacon, sausage, eggs, and hash browns under one, a stack of pancakes under another, and a small fruit plate.
Harley appears from the bedroom, unfortunately dressed, but that’s probably for the best.
Something doesn’t sit right. It’s a gut feeling—the same gut feeling I had when Webber sent the letter.
Harley reaches for a piece of cantaloupe, but I stop his hand from going anywhere near his mouth.
“Did Gideon tell the label we were here?” I ask.
He drops the fruit. “Not that I know of. They’re still being dicks about the album. But … I mean, he could have?”
“Don’t eat anything,” I order and rush into the bedroom to find my phone.
Gideon picks up on the third ring. “Brix? Is everything okay?”
“Did you tell the label what hotel we’re at?”
“No, but I was about to call you guys. It was leaked in a tabloid. Someone saw Harley walking through the lobby.”
“Shit,” I hiss, then remember something. “Wait, Harley hasn’t been to the lobby. We came straight up from the basement and haven’t left the room.”
We were careful not to let anyone see him arriving and have made sure he hasn’t answered the door when we’ve ordered takeout or room service. Yet, somehow, he was still recognized somewhere.
“Did anyone see you?” Gideon asks.
“One guy in the elevator, but he gave no indication he recognized Harley. And that was days ago.”