Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
He grabbed his shirt just in time and almost whimpered as what felt like every drop of come in his body escaped through his dick in hot, satisfying spurts. “Fuck.”
Hugo couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t remember the last time he’d come like that.
It was all for the man on the other side of the door. The man who had no idea about all of the depraved things Hugo wanted to do to him.
He knew he’d be an idiot to think another round between them wouldn’t leave him broken on the floor. Knew their time had passed, and telling him would only make things worse.
He grabbed a new shirt, slipping down the hall and into the bathroom to rinse himself off. He was deprived and depraved. That was his only excuse. There was a houseful of people here for his birthday, and he’d had to take five so he could rub one out while they waited.
Another reason why keeping his distance from Solomon was best for everyone.
Want to rethink that? Avoidance doesn’t seem to be working.
Nothing did. After all this time, he was still wound up about the way things ended between them. His hurt hadn’t faded. His need hadn’t faded. He’d been the one to back away, but it didn’t feel finished.
He’d had breakups before. When Hugo dated he was all in, but the instant he realized things weren’t going where he wanted them to, moving on was surprisingly easy. He’d always told himself it meant he’d made the right decision.
Had he made the wrong one with Solomon?
Or are you still sulking about the months of talking, flirting and hardcore foreplay without any payoff?
Was that what this was? Did it boil down to sex in the end? He couldn’t let go because they hadn’t gone all the way?
If that was the case, he might be in trouble, because he’d never been able to keep sex separate from his emotions. When his body was involved, his heart was always part of the equation. It was who he was, and why he was so particular about his partners.
Younger did it for years. Sex without strings. With strangers.
He didn’t want to think about this now. Tonight he was celebrating thirty-eight years in the world and looking forward to thirty-eight more. His family was waiting for him to make an appearance.
Only they weren’t. They barely noticed him at all.
This time when he walked into the kitchen, the conversation didn’t stop. He got a few head nods but no acknowledgment of his outburst or catering to his feelings. Apparently his family had decided to ignore him in favor of their dinner guest.
Deal with yourself, birthday boy.
“So Robert was named for…?” Solomon asked after a moment’s hesitation when he noticed Hugo’s arrival.
Foster Wayne looked over his bifocals and grinned. “Depends on who you ask, son. I say Robert Frost, of course. But that gorgeous, stubborn woman over there claims its Nora Roberts.”
Robert groaned and covered his laughing friend’s ears. “Can you not tell that story to people I work with? My desk will be drowning in romance novels by Monday.”
“She’s a wonderful and prolific author,” Cassandra insisted as she added seasoning to the pot Austen was hovering over. “And a famous one. She got me through his pregnancy when my ankles were swollen and I felt so sick I was sure I’d die giving birth to a demon child.”
“Love you too, Mama,” Robert said, chuckling.
Hugo’s father pushed up his glasses and sniffed. “Some say the world will end in fire.”
“Some say in ice,” Hugo finished, joining the conversation with a laugh. “You know that argument doesn’t work on her, Dad.”
His mother didn’t disappoint. “Are we quoting now, dear? Fire is easily lit. Easily extinguished.”
“Ooh, that was a good trilogy, wasn’t it?” Austen said, poking Shelley until she nodded. “Am I right? It’s from that witchy island series with the hot sheriff?”
“That’s the one,” Bronte agreed. “Solomon kind of reminds me of that sheriff.”
Hugo’s sisters turned as one to study him, nodding thoughtfully.
“I thought he reminded you of your Viking show,” Hugo said, a little sharper than he’d intended.
“I can tell you what you remind me of.”
Cassandra clapped her hands together. “Don’t embarrass our guest. Robert, help Emerson set the table. Dinner’s ready.”
Hugo was sharing a look of commiseration with his brothers when he saw Solomon’s expression. It cracked something open inside him.
At first he wondered if he was seeing something that wasn’t there. The Finns were a big, nosy, noisy family, just like the Waynes. He knew about the Finn Again dinners and the dedication Solomon had always shown to his family. So why did that look remind him of an orphan peering through the glass at someone else’s Thanksgiving?
Their eyes met and in that moment his expression changed. Heated.
There it was.
There was no way to deny what was still there between them. What had always been there. It never went away, never faded, no matter how much either one of them wished it would.