Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
A minute later, he’s back, with one eyebrow arched, shaking his head as if that might clear the air.
“Too much fun, McD?”
He sinks down to the fluffy rug beside the couch again and leans his head against my leg. “It’s exhausting, all the drop-bys.”
Yesterday, it was Hakim and Carolina—who, apparently, are now an item. The night before, a team of two servers Mrs. McDowell hired to come over and cook us dinner.
I run my hand through his soft hair. “You really are an ambivert, aren’t you, Sky?”
“I need quiet.”
“It’s near bed time. Wanna go up?”
“Are you tired?” His eyes on mine are slightly wide, as if my being tired three days after being cut loose by the hospital would represent a real emergency.
“Nah.” I grin. “Just thought you might like it up there where it’s…quiet.” I shove back the blanket on my lap, revealing my cock straining at my lounge pants. “Dude. I’m gonna start having wet dreams soon. This thing is out of control.”
“Yeah, because you got off all those pain pills this week. Same thing happened to me. Your dick goes haywire.”
“Also, I’m horny for my partner.”
I don’t remember much at all about that day. None of the drive to the church. Not one minute of the party. Definitely none of what happened when we were standing by the street, and our assailant sped toward us. Toward Luke. I don’t remember shoving him out of the line of fire, or all the ways my body broke as I flew through the air, and then got rushed to the ER and wheeled back for surgery. One of the only things I do remember from the day is that statement he put out—the one where I got called a partner.
He smiles because I’m grinning. As if the merriment of the last few days is act, and he’s playing along just for my sake.
I shift my legs so they’re off the couch’s side and use my free arm so I’m poised to get up off the couch. Luke moves to help me. With my cast arm—usually in the sling—and my still-healing ribs, it’s still tricky to get up off beds and couches. I’ve got almost all my strength back, but when I get up or down, he helps me.
Like right now. He’s slow and careful as he helps me get to my feet.
His green eyes are gentle on my face.
I kiss him on the jaw. “Thanks, Sky.”
He drops his gaze away from my face, and I take his hand. “Let’s go upstairs so you can blow me like you promised.”
He snorts.
“Better yet, I can blow you.”
Another snort from Mr. Doctor’s Orders. “Don’t know how you think you can manage that.”
“You straddle my face.”
“If you get off, and breathe too hard—”
“Nothing will happen.”
His jaw tightens, and he won’t look at me—not until we reach the stairs. Then that’s all he can do. Watch me like I might break, even though the stairs don’t hurt that bad now. I just grit my teeth a little, and the ribs seem fine.
Being in the townhouse and not his house right now is well worth it. Despite a really warm outpouring of support from all over the world, Luke’s security thinks anonymity is good for the next little while. Gives the crazies time to forget about us and move on.
He watches me until we get to the top of the stairs. Then he casts his eyes away. He walks slightly in front of me and pushes open the door to the bedroom—where we’ve been sleeping for the last two nights with Luke angled away from me so he won’t “tempt us” with his cock. As if I don’t have one, too.
I’ve got a doctor check-in tomorrow morning, and one thing I’m dead-ass sure is not on the agenda is our sex life. No one will be clearing me. There’s nothing wrong with my cock. My head’s shaved, and, till tomorrow morning, there are still stitches there and in my cheek—but I got off damn near scoot free except my arm, which needs some rehab when the cast is off in four more weeks.
Luke was distraught about it—so I’ve heard—until, one of the first days after I woke up, he gave me a teary apology and I told him I’m ambidextrous. Dude hadn’t even noticed, and when I told him, he insisted for two days that it would take me both arms to sculpt or do murals.
“Nope. Just one,” I told him.
“What do you do with two then?” he’d asked, frowning.
“Jerk both of us off,” I’d said then.
I get on the bed using a stool he put beside it for me, and he rushes to help me lay back. So he’s right beside me as I pull my sweatpants down.
“You can roll on over if you want,” I tell him. “I’m just gonna jerk off with my spare hand.” I wiggle the fingers, and he blows his breath out, then surprises me by doing just that. He rolls away from me.