Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
He leaned forward but stopped, and I felt his warm breath on my face. “I want to. I want you and—Jed.”
I smiled at him. “I know. I want you back. It’s been a long time for me.”
“No, you— It’s not that I want to fuck you—”
“You don’t?” I teased him.
“Oh God,” he groaned, and I let his hand go so he could do what he wanted and cover his face with both. “You’re really looking at me, finally, and your mouth is right there and—”
“Do you like to top? I’ve never asked.”
“Fuck yes, Jed, I like to top,” he ground out like he was in pain. “I have dreamed of having you under—oh my God.”
I reached out and curled a long strand of hair around his ear. “Me too.”
He actually whined as he dropped his hands and looked at me.
“But I know what you mean. It’s not just the sex. It’s that final piece. It’s the last part that connects us. Can’t ever go back after that.”
“No,” he was adamant. “You can’t ever take it back. From the first kiss, Jed,” he said, swallowing hard, “you can’t ever send me away or change your mind because you think something stupid. I won’t ever leave you. Do you understand?”
He looked so scared, so tense, so ready to either jump me or hit me, and I understood because it was nearly six years of longing, of us circling one another, simmering the whole time, and his control had been stretched to the limit and was now gone, utterly and completely fractured. But since at the moment he still belonged to Hayden, there was only one thing to do. Only one way to return us to normalcy.
“What if a billionaire wants to marry you?”
It took him a second. “Have you lost your—”
“Or what if you meet that football player you like?”
“I don’t think he’s gay,” he replied, grinning, scooting closer, at my hip now, reaching out and slipping his hand around the side of my neck, his thumb tracing along my jawline.
“What about that guy who plays for the Blackhawks, the one you said always smiles at you whenever you go to the games?”
He shook his head. “You’re so stupid.”
“This is not news.”
“We’re going to have to fly coach home.”
“That’s okay,” I told him. “You can hold my hand.”
“Have I ever told you that hazel is my favorite color?”
My eyes just so happened to be that color. “No, you haven’t.”
“I will build my whole world around you, Josiah Redeker. I’ve been waiting for so long.”
I nodded. “And I’m sorry for making you wait, but I wanted what’s best for you, and you know how I feel about that being me.”
“I do, yes. But now?”
“But now I’m selfish, so you’re screwed.”
His smile was blinding. “No, baby, you’re the one who’s gonna be screwed.”
“Why you gotta make everything all nasty?”
He laughed long and hard, and that was a very good thing.
NINE
Once Bodhi left, I sat there and worried and second-guessed myself because that’s what I did. Always. When my phone rang, I saw a Chicago area code and picked up.
“Hello?”
Nothing. No sound. No greeting.
“Hello?” I repeated, like everyone did in every horror movie I’d ever seen.
“Harold of visions,” Ian whispered and then was gone, the call ending.
“The fuck was that?” I asked the air angrily, thinking he was fucking with me. I tried him back a moment later.
The line was busy, making a beeping sound like it was a landline, which made no sense. Why wouldn’t Ian just use his cell? And who did he know who even had a house phone? His father maybe? But again, he always had his cell on him; he had to. He was the deputy director, and the office always had to be able to get a hold of him.
I called again, then a third time, the line never ceasing to beep, and I finally called Miro to figure out what was going on. It was right after nine p.m. in Chicago, so still relatively early, but I was still surprised to get him on the second ring.
“Jed,” he said, his voice breathy, “are you on your way?”
On my way? “No, I’m—no. And I’ll ask what you mean in a second, but I just got a weird call from Ian, and I need to know if you have eyes on him.”
“Eyes on—no, we’re dealing with a crisis here and—”
“Miro, listen. Where’s Ian?”
“He’s coordinating with the FBI and Homeland about—”
“No. He’s not. Get me in a room with Kage and Becker now.”
“Jed?”
“Now, Miro. Do it now,” I commanded. “Hurry.”
There were muffled sounds, and I could hear yelling, and then he told me he’d call me right back.
I was pacing when my phone rang, and I picked up instantly. “Hello?”
“Redeker,” Sam Kage addressed me in that tone he had where I had better not be wasting his time. Not that I ever had.