Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
He rubs the back of his knuckles against my cheek as the stars wink beyond us in the night sky. “That’s why it’s your kink. It thrills you and it scares you, and that turns you on. But it feels good, doesn’t it?”
“So fucking good, Rafe.” I’m bold from the sex we had, saying, “I have so many fantasies.”
His eyes glimmer with heat. “Tell them to me.”
I close my eyes for a moment, seeing all the dirty deeds I imagine. “I imagined once that you had a yacht. Some opulent thing.” I open my eyes and meet his dark brown ones. “To be clear, I don’t want you for your money. But I could see you on a yacht, Rafe. And on this yacht, I pictured you fucking me out on the open water.”
He groans and slides his hand over the front of his pants where an ambitious erection tents the fabric.
“Or outside somewhere,” I say, encouraged in my quest to turn him on. “But if it weren’t for you, all of New York would’ve seen me jerking off a few nights ago.”
He drops his hand from his cock and cups my jaw fiercely. “I’d always protect you. I’ve always wanted to make it so you could experiment safely.”
I think back to New York when he had me turn my back to the window so no one could see me. To The West House where there are no phones. He has given me space to freely explore my fantasies with him. He’s made certain I’m safe. Even the private suite at the ballpark was risqué but controlled.
I look deep into his eyes and drop the sarcasm. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much.”
“I’m going to miss you more,” he says, and then grabs my face and kisses me roughly, making me moan into his mouth.
When he breaks away, it’s to take my hand, and we return to the bedroom. There are clean sheets on the bed; he must have changed them when I stepped into the shower before him.
We tumble onto the crisp covers and shove off the rest of our clothes. Then we’re naked together, bodies entangled, pushing and grinding against each other. Skin against skin, his chest against mine, our lips smashed together.
We can’t stop touching each other. This time, he lets me lead. I pin him on his back and rub and rock against him, thrusting. Then, as our groans turn louder, I slick up my hand with lube, slide it between us and get us off together.
Before we fall apart in the morning.
36
LAST TIME
Rafe
The clock ticks painfully loud in the morning, a stark reminder that I won’t see Gunnar again once he leaves.
As I get dressed, pulling on the pants I left by the bed, panic creeps over me.
This is ending.
I’m choosing the end.
My chest tightens as I head into the closet to grab a shirt. This uncomfortable sensation promises to gnaw at me as I let Gunnar get away. I distract myself by focusing on my responsibilities—the acquisition plans waiting for me on my laptop for Bespoke, the upcoming campaign with Boyfriend Material, which Gunnar is part of.
I ball my hands into fists and remind myself to stay strong. I can’t give in to what my heart wants. My head has to win this game.
I grab a crisp, burgundy button-up and slide it on, doing the buttons. When I’m dressed, I go out to the living room and find Gunnar relaxing on the couch, laughing at something on his phone.
My breath catches at the sight of him at ease in my home. This is the first time I’ve seen him in the light of morning. All our encounters have been after dark, shrouded by midnight and moonlight.
Now, sun streaks across the room and his golden hair shines in the light. I head over to him, and I can’t resist. I drop a soft kiss to the top of his head, then ask, “What’s so amusing?”
“Ah, it’s just my teammate giving me a hard time,” he says, then sets his phone down on the couch cushion and stares up at me, still smiling. “As he does.”
“Is that Zane?” I ask.
I can barely let go of Gunnar. I want to gobble up everything there is to know about him.
Gunnar nods, still looking over his shoulder at me as I stand behind the couch. “Yeah, we’re just planning to work out before the game tonight. We start a new series against the LA Bandits here.”
“You only had yesterday off. Baseball is so intense,” I say, a little amazed at the relentless pace.
“You know it, babes. We aren’t football players, going at it once a week. We’re working men, playing six or seven days a week, and it’s hard and awesome.”
That schedule is also a reminder of his goals. He had a great series in New York over the weekend. But if he were to keep coming over late at night, staying up past midnight, enjoying the pleasures of my nightly seductions, and all the clever ways I’d service his kink, he’d be worn out and exhausted, which would affect his game. I can’t let that happen to him.