Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
My search had also turned up something much more embarrassing. The memory flashed through me right now as I watched him dance. My cheeks heated up.
It was a porn video.
Not of Kace himself, but some lookalike-Kace porn star jerking off on camera.
I’d watched it over and over and over again in some morbid fascination until I’d clicked away in shame, shutting my laptop lid like I was trapping a deadly spider.
I was a grown man, fifteen years older than Kace, and about to start renovation work on his house. I sure as shit felt a little wrong imagining him shooting cum all over his own stomach, even if the guy in the video wasn’t really him.
And now I was watching the real Kace Tomlin dance his ass off, singing loud and proud on the pool deck to the song.
When he caught my gaze through the glass windows, it was like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. My only crime was watching him dance, but I felt like I could have stood there for hours like a fly on the wall, watching Kace move. Like I’d watched his Instagram videos, over and over again at night in bed.
Suddenly my flannel felt too tight. Christ, what was this man doing to me?
Kace started making his way through the crowd outside, still dancing as he pushed open two glass double doors in front of me, beelining straight toward me.
I shifted on my feet again as he walked over, trying to act normal even though I was pretty sure there was no version of “normal” for me around Kace. He held my gaze, looking me up and down as he approached me.
“You look like you need a drink, my friend,” he said to me, twisting around once and then humming along to the song again.
Yeah. The fake-Kace porn star had nothing on the real guy. The sun-kissed natural highlights in his hair, his golden skin, and those damn freckles.
Apparently, my laws of straight-guy attraction had no rules when it came to him.
“You look like you’ve had quite a few drinks, yourself,” I said. I held up the wine bottle in my hand. “Uh, I brought this, because I always bring wine to dinner parties. I wasn’t sure what kind of party it was going to be.”
“You’re sweet,” Kace said, grabbing the wine. “Callie will love this. Malbec is her favorite wine.”
I noticed a trail of some sort of liquid running from his neck, down his Adam’s apple, and onto his chest. I realized that I very easily could have looked at his body like that forever—the planes of his muscles, the definition of his bare pecs, even just the sheer strength visible in his forearms.
I looked away.
“Seems like I should have brought Jello shots instead,” I told him, looking all around the party. “Not sure if a guy like me really belongs here.”
Kace cocked his head to one said, giving me that relaxed, confident look that he was so good at.
“You belong here because I want you here.” He glanced down at my lips, just for a brief moment. “Come on. Let’s open this wine. You want a glass?”
My cock stirred under my jeans. It must have been some mixture of misplaced excitement at having someone like him say that they wanted me anywhere, but either way, I ignored my very confused dick and tried to pull myself together.
“For this party I’m going to need something stronger,” I finally said. “Let’s go with a whiskey sour.”
“My man,” he said, giving me a pat on the back. “A man after my own heart.”
I cleared my throat. “I saw you making those sours the other day on your, uh, Instagram profile,” I said. “They looked pretty good.”
“Oh, you watched my livestream?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “That was a fun one.”
The fact that he seemed genuinely thankful that I’d been watching his content, even when thousands and thousands of other people had been tuned in, gave me some small piece of satisfaction. Maybe this was just how Kace treated everyone, but it definitely made me feel special.
I nodded once. “You’re good in front of a camera.”
We arrived at the bar adjacent to his kitchen. It was lavish just like the rest of his house, with any liquor under the sun available. There was a hired bartender behind the bar ready to make anyone drinks, but Kace reached behind for a whiskey bottle himself, grabbing a glass and making me a drink.
“I thought you weren’t going to make it tonight,” he told me as he grabbed the sour mix.
I scratched the back of my neck. “I got your text,” I started, “but I had a bunch of invoices to review back at the office. And then I dropped my daughter off at her friend’s house for the night. They’re watching some popular new Japanese show, where they all live in a house together. And then I actually had to make a stop at my accountant’s office, and—fuck, why am I telling you the most boring story on Earth right now?”