Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Christ, he should have fucking known.
He couldn’t believe he’d been dumb enough to fall for that shit. It hadn’t been the first time he’d been used or taken advantage of, but he made sure it was the last. He’d been so fucking embarrassed he’d let himself get taken advantage of, but he’d been so desperate at the time. It had come down to making some money or packing his ass back to California where everyone would know he’d failed.
Where he’d have to look Oliver in the eye and tell him he couldn’t handle it. He was determined to make something of himself on his own and now he was doing that.
Matt took a bite of the dessert in his hand. It was chocolate and caramel, sweet as hell, but damn, it tasted good.
“Oh God, that looks fucking incredible.” Santiago, one of Parker’s other clients, approached him.
“It is.” Matt smiled at him. He’d always had a sweet tooth, especially when it came to chocolate or marshmallows. “You’re not having any?” he asked and Santiago shook his head.
“Fuck, no. I feel like I’m going to gain five pounds by looking at it.” Both men laughed as Matt felt the warmth of another body step up beside him. It was Parker. He wore a suit that likely cost more than anything Matt had ever owned back home. He looked innocent as hell with his red hair and freckled nose.
“You have a little chocolate right here.” Parker reached over and swiped at Matt’s bottom lip and then held his hand there and nodded toward his finger. Matt grinned at him before he sucked the tip of Parker’s finger into his mouth and licked it clean.
Santiago chuckled, turned and walked away.
“Are you having fun?” Parker asked.
“Of course,” Matt told him. “Thank you for this.”
Parker waved off his thanks. “You look great but then that’s no surprise. You’re always gorgeous. Jesus, there are so many people interested in a piece of you.”
There was a slow churn in Matt’s gut he tried to ignore. This was a good thing. People wanted him. He’d actually fucking done something with his life.
He was able to help his parents now.
He was in a beautiful apartment in Manhattan at a party being thrown for his modeling success and the campaign he’d just landed. His heart pulsed with an emptiness left by the fact that Oliver wasn’t here to see it. He wished like hell his friends could see what he’d done but then wondered if he really had the right to feel that way at all.
CHAPTER ONE
Oliver sat with Miles in their booth at Wild Side as they watched Chance dance on one of the tables in front of them. Chance was an incredible dancer. Everyone in the bar—men and women alike—seemed to agree, as they shoved money into his underwear. Chance rubbed his hands down his body, looked at Oliver and ran his tongue across his top lip.
Oliver rolled his eyes at his friend. “He’s popular,” he said to Miles even though they both knew he was.
“He’s ridiculous.”
“You like that word.”
Miles looked at him and smiled. He still wore his suit, likely because he’d just left work. Still, he was here. This had been their spot since they turned twenty-one. Chance had been dancing here on Saturday and Sunday nights since he was twenty-three. Five years was the longest Chance had stuck with anything besides their friendship. Their Friday night routine always happened, even when Chance picked up a Friday night at work like he did tonight.
“It’s a good word,” Miles said, pulling him out of his thoughts. He rubbed a hand over his short, dark hair. His eyes were whiskey colored, his brown skin a shade or two darker.
“How’s work going?”
Miles shrugged. “All right. I’m on a big case, so things might get a little hectic for me.”
Miles was a highly sought after LA defense attorney. He always won, which fit Miles to a tee. There was never a doubt that Miles would go on to be successful. He was a slight workaholic and would be a full-fledged workaholic if it wasn’t for Chance and Oliver. “Did he do it?” Oliver asked with a grin, knowing Miles wouldn’t answer. He only rolled his eyes at Oliver who laughed.
“How’s it going with the guy?”
Oliver groaned, knowing that subject would come up eventually. It always did. “I don’t understand the fascination with my social life.”
Miles took a drink of his rum and Coke before swirling the rest around in his glass. “That’s because most of the time I’m too busy to have a social life of my own, and Chance’s is too hard to keep up with. That means you’re stuck with the focus on you.”
Oliver couldn’t help but laugh. It was true—Chance definitely loved the social aspect of his job. He enjoyed men a lot more often than Oliver or Miles did. Probably more than Oliver and Miles combined. Miles meant to let loose a little more than he did but yeah, the workaholic thing. And Oliver? Oliver was the fucking romantic. He sort of hated that about himself sometimes. It would be easier if he just wanted to fuck anyone he saw…anyone with a cock, at least, but that wasn’t him.