Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Ian quickly unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, wondering why he wasn’t weirded out.
Shrugging off the thought, he headed to the adjoining bathroom. If he wasn’t feeling uneasy, he wasn’t going to come up with reasons why he should be.
Besides, it had been a one-off, a favor to a confused boy, so there was no point dwelling on it.
Just a one-off.
Chapter 8
Miles had never thought it was possible to fall in friendship, but that was exactly what seemed to be happening to them.
“Them” being Ian and him.
Caldwell wasn’t Caldwell anymore. He was Ian. It was hard to think of him as Caldwell after the man had given him the first orgasm in Miles’s life—the first orgasm with another person.
Not that the whole thing made his sexuality less confusing, but one thing was clear: he wasn’t asexual. He had wanted Ian, wanted his hands and mouth on his body.
He still did.
He hoped Ian didn’t know; he would hate to ruin the confusingly easy companionship between them with his inappropriate lust. Miles knew that Ian was straight. Ian had touched him as a favor, nothing more. Wanting more would be just greedy.
The problem was… The problem was, Miles was beginning to realize why people made such a big deal about sex. Since he’d gotten a taste of how good having an orgasm with another person could be, he kind of wanted it again. And again, and again, and again. It felt like he had nothing but dirty thoughts whenever his gaze fell on Ian’s firm mouth, his nipples hardening and aching to be touched—sucked on—again.
Miles had never wanked so much in his life.
Thankfully, no one knew his dirty thoughts. At least he hoped Ian didn’t know.
“Liam smiled at me today,” Ian suddenly said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Miles turned his head and looked at the older man beside him. Ian was wearing a black t-shirt that hugged his muscular torso and a pair of dark jeans. The look was casual, but somehow, Ian still didn’t look casual. He looked way too good for hanging out at home in front of the TV. But then again, Miles was beginning to realize Ian Caldwell didn’t look anything but mouthwatering at all hours of the day. It was the man, not the clothes. Even Ian’s facial hair that had gone beyond the stubble stage and was well on its way into beard territory didn’t make him look unkempt; it just accentuated his strong jawline and the blue of his eyes. Miles had always envied men like that: ones who could look effortlessly good and stylish without trying.
“He did?” he said belatedly, a little embarrassed that he was so distracted by something as shallow as good looks.
Ian nodded, his eyes on the TV. His lips twisted. “But then he ran away when I tried to play with him, so I guess it didn’t mean much.”
Miles felt a pang of sympathy.
He poked Ian on his hard stomach. “Hey, none of that,” he said. “If he smiled at you, it really is something to celebrate. It’s progress.”
Ian turned his head, a wry look on his face. “You don’t need to comfort me, Miles. I’m a grown man, and I’m perfectly aware that it’s my own damn fault.”
“In what way?”
“I’m not blameless for the way he acts now,” Ian said. “Regina and I… we used to yell and fight a lot in front of him, and sometimes those fights turned really ugly.” He smiled ruefully. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not good at controlling my anger. I get carried away. Don’t look at me that way—I never hit her, but…” Ian grimaced. “I’ve been told I can get really cruel verbally when I’m angry, and it’s probably true. I reduced her to tears countless times. Liam was too young to understand what was being said, definitely too young to understand that his mother wasn’t a blameless victim, but it probably looked that way to a small child. No wonder he’s scared of me.”
“Oh,” Miles said, dropping his gaze. He blinked in confusion, realizing that he had been tracing the shape of Ian’s impressive abs through his t-shirt.
Not knowing what to say to Ian’s words, Miles said what was on his mind. “How do you manage to have a six-pack like this when you spend so much time behind your desk? It’s bizarre—and really unfair.”
“Good genes,” Ian said with a haughty look that had no right to be so damn attractive.
“You’re so full of shit,” Miles said, tracing the hard muscles with his finger. “It’s bollocks that you got this six-pack by being born a Caldwell.”
“That is no way to talk to your boss,” Ian said, but his blue eyes were laughing. “And feeling your boss up isn’t exactly okay, either.”
Miles widened his eyes and put on his most innocent face. “But I didn’t even put my hand under your shirt!”