Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I wanted everything to be this simple, all of the time. Nothing had to matter when it felt this good to be close to another person.
I didn’t give a fuck if I was straight or gay or bisexual or anything in between.
I just wanted him near me. All of the fucking time, recently. Even when I’d been mad at him, or even when I’d felt like I didn’t belong.
“Why’s it so hard to admit it?” I murmured, leaning in to press a kiss below his ear. He sighed against me, and I felt my cock thicken under my shorts.
“Because what’s the purpose in admitting I’m drawn to someone like you?” Emmett said softly.
I hummed, rubbing my palm along his thigh. “Someone like me? A dickhead athlete?”
He puffed out a breath. I wanted to kiss his sweet lips again but I also wanted to hear what he had to say, so I resisted. I leaned back, looking in his jewel-like eyes.
“Someone who only sees money when you look at me,” he said finally, worry flashing across his expression. “It’s only ever been trouble, for me. You think it’s all I care about, and it hurts.”
I shook my head, scooting closer toward him so that our legs touched. “No,” I said. “Maybe at first, when all I saw was the Porsche leaving on weekdays and the Ferrari on weekends. I will admit, I judged you before I knew you, with that.”
“Right.”
I swallowed. “But I can tell when someone works from pure greed. And you don’t do that, Emmett. I don’t think I’ve seen you do it once.”
“Then why were you so hell-bent against the Racks deal? My promotion?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out how to explain my thought processes to him. I wanted him to know. I wanted to be able to tell him the full, honest truth, because he deserved that. I let my hand move back and forth against his thigh, because apparently I couldn’t stop touching him, now.
“I really did think they were a bad company, first of all,” I said. “I know I should have done more research. God, I know that now. But it’s also more than that.”
He looked at me expectantly.
Fuck it.
If I was going to be honest, I was going to go all the way.
I pulled in a breath. “Emmett, it seems like you were pinning all your happiness onto this one deal. This one promotion.”
He froze, his eyes locked on mine.
“Maybe.”
“But… that’s not how happiness works.”
He shook his head, looking off toward the river. “I knew it was what I needed to get Lux Marketing to where I want it to go. Not just for me. To honor my dad.”
I was quiet for a moment. We were laying it all down on the line, so I was going to give Emmett everything.
“I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told a soul before,” I said. “And I don’t really like talking about it. So can I have your promise you won’t repeat it?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
I shifted on the bench, pausing for a moment. I looked down at the leaf-mottled grass in front of us, then back up at Emmett. I reached up to run my fingertips through his soft hair, breathing deep.
“I never knew my dad,” I finally said. “Mom said he left when I wasn’t even two years old, and she always told me that he wasn’t too great of a guy, and we were better off without him. But…”
My chest felt heavy. Fuck. I was actually uncomfortable, but at the same time, I wanted Emmett to know. I didn’t know why, but I felt like I wanted him to know me. I wanted to be closer to him mentally, now, not just physically.
“But,” I continued, “Mom always said that he was a football fan. Just like me. And in my dumbass mind, I believed that when I went pro—if I became famous—my dad would reach out.”
Emmett breathed deeply, watching me close and nodding, hanging on my words. I realized idly that Emmett was a really, really good listener, and it was probably how he was usually able to make friends with anyone.
“Did he ever reach out, when you finally went pro?” he asked, hesitation in his voice.
“He actually did,” I finally said.
Emmett looked shocked.
My discomfort rose to a pitch, like a thundercloud finally about to break.
I spoke quickly now, wanting to get it all out. “We had lunch together. My dad pounded beers. And by the end, he had asked me for money four separate times. Seemed like he wanted funds to get some vacation timeshare, and other funds to start up some car rental company that he couldn’t even tell me much about. Our waiter had been wearing a rainbow armband for pride, and as we walked out of the restaurant, my dad called him a slur. Within earshot.”