Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“What if,” he says. The two words are broken as much as he is. “What if my old church is right? What if they happen to be the one branch of religion that God calls upon?”
I don’t know how to handle this at all, and I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing. Him being here means so much. Him coming to me instead of the other way around is monumental, just like it was all the other times he put forth the effort. The man is no more indifferent to me than I am to him.
“There are over four thousand religions in the world,” I tell him, having looked it up after the first night we spent together.
He finally raises his eyes to mine.
“I’m not discounting how you were raised or what they believe. You have to be the one to decide whether a one in four thousand chance is worth walking away from a man that loves you with his entire heart.”
He swallows as he considers my words.
“A chance in a lifetime,” he whispers.
“If you’re willing to take the risk,” I return. “I can’t—”
His lips are on mine in the next breath, and this time I don’t push him away.
His tongue brushing against mine is the best, most perfect thing I could’ve ever imagined.
His hands wander, his fingers brushing over so many different areas of my body, each touch lighting my skin on fire.
There’s a moment where our lips are barely touching that we just look into each other’s eyes, and somehow I know it’s his apology. It’s his way of telling me that he lied, and that there is hope. I’m worth the risk to his soul, and that should make me take pause. I shouldn’t want to be that for him. Being with me shouldn’t be a choice between love and salvation, but the man makes me weak.
“Missed you so much,” he pants before pressing his lips to mine again as his hand tugs the zipper on my sleeping bag down.
I don’t waste a second, pushing it to the side, gasping when the warmth of so much of his skin touches mine. He didn’t even bother pulling on his pants to come to my tent, instead choosing to sneak across the wooded distance in nothing but his boxer briefs.
I groan into his mouth when his hand sweeps down the front of me, my erection aching for more than he seems to want to give.
“Alex,” I say, somehow finding the strength to push at his chest. “Stop.”
He licks at his lips as he pulls his face back from mine.
“I can’t do this—”
“What will it take to—”
“I can’t do this if tomorrow you just find another reason to try and push me away.”
He shakes his head. “No more pushing. I can’t guarantee it’s going to be perfect, but I want this. I need you.”
“This can’t be just sex. It’s not what—”
He presses two fingers to my mouth, effectively silencing me. “It’s not just sex.”
“I need you to say it. I mean, I’ll say it first if that makes it easier. Alex, I—” He presses those fingers tighter to my lips.
“Drake Hill, I love you.”
“Really?” The word is muffled by his hand.
“Really.”
When he presses his lips to mine, no longer are there any reservations. I may not know everything about the man, but I know he isn’t a liar. I know his words to be true, and that makes every risk we may take going forward worth it.
He moves back, urging me to lift my hips as he pulls down my boxer briefs. Hesitation isn’t even a word in my vocabulary right now as I shove at his boxers.
“I have condoms and lube,” I tell him, chuckling when he draws his head back in confusion. “Ugly said you wanted me here. I figured I should be prepared.”
“People sticking their noses where they don’t belong will be the death of me,” he complains, but he doesn’t hesitate to move toward my duffel bag when I point to it.
I notice the tremble in his hands as he pulls the supplies from my bag.
“Here,” I tell him, taking the condom from his hands.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I open the package and start rolling the latex down his length. “I thought you’d—”
“You thought you’d let one more thing happen to you?” I ask, unable to hide the frustration in my voice.
I can’t help the dig, the reminder that the man used to purposely let things happen to him and use that as justification to ease his guilt later. If he wasn’t the one doing, then the sin wasn’t as bad. This can’t be another one of those situations.
“Listen. Alex, maybe this isn’t—”
“Nope,” he says, pushing at my chest and forcing me to lie back down. “You’re not going to backpedal out of this now. I know I’m big, but I promise to work that hole of yours until you’re ready for me.”