Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“One was a mutual break up.” He takes a larger gulp of energy drink. “The other three, I ended things first.” He glances at me, and I listen intently, interested in his past. “One had to move out of the country for work, and I didn’t want to do a long-distance relationship. The other two, I wasn’t feeling after a while.”
“You grew bored or something?” I ask.
Farrow tosses his head from side-to-side, considering this. “Or something.” He places his drink back down. “I never actively looked for a forever guy, but at some point, I’d wake up and I’d think, can I do this for another year, two years, three? And if the answer was constantly no, then I broke it off.”
Huh.
I stare faraway for a long beat. “Even if you loved the guy?” Our eyes catch.
Then he focuses on the road again, but his body is still completely relaxed. “I don’t think I loved them as much as I could’ve or else I’d still be with them and not talking in the past tense.”
I ease back. I don’t need extra reassurance or for him to promise that I’ll be the forever guy. Because this is fucking brand new for me, and I can’t foresee the future either. But right now, he’s mine.
I’m his, and there’s no better feeling than that.
“Is that it?” he asks, sounding surprised.
“You usually go for jocks or am I an outlier?”
His smile stretches wider and wider. Fuck me. I want his mouth wrapped around my cock like yesterday.
“Are you an outlier?” he repeats my words with a husky voice, and his gum chewing habit somehow bolsters his casual confidence to the umpteenth degree. In a boiling glance, his gaze just scorches down my body. “I’ve gone for jocks before, but not a lot look like you.” He motions to my face. “Supermodel.” Then points to my abs. “Athlete.”
“So you’re saying I’m hotter than you.”
His smile reaches cheek-to-cheek. “I’m absolutely still hotter than you, wolf scout.”
I believe it, but I also want to contest it. Just to prolong this damn moment. “Says who?”
“Your cock.”
My muscles contract. We both stare at each other’s mouths. I want to kiss the fuck out of him. Until his body welds against my body and separating would take a century.
I grab his hand that rests on his knee, and he must sense my next action because he takes control and places his palm on my thigh, jean fabric between his skin and my skin.
He slides his hand towards the inside, closer to my pulsing cock—he’s teasing but not able to do anything real while behind the wheel.
We’re both used to no touching while driving in Philly, but on this tinted bus, it’s safer. So Farrow touching me—in any capacity—I’ll hungrily take.
He gives me another long once-over before watching the highway. “What kind of guys do you usually go for?” he asks.
“I was only looking for sex, a one-night stand,” I remind him. “But I gravitated towards men the same size as me or bigger. Pretty much any guy who looked like they’d want to manhandle me.”
Farrow chews his gum slowly in thought. “But you wouldn’t let them take control in bed.” He knows how aggressive I am.
“Right.”
He sucks in a breath. “Damn.”
I hear something more in his voice. “What?”
“That’s a fine line, especially since you’re famous.” His eyes flit to me. “They could’ve easily hurt you.”
“They didn’t,” I assure him.
He nods, and his hand slides towards my knee. He rubs my leg, almost comfortingly. In a way that relaxes me against my seat. He cares about me.
I could get way too used to this.
We start talking about nineties bands when he raises the stereo volume. Not loud enough to wake everyone else. Halfway through, he off-handily mentions Thatcher being a stick-in-the-mud asshole.
“What’s your deal with Thatcher anyway?” I ask and swig from a bottle of Ziff.
“The fucker tased me.”
I choke on my sports drink. “What?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my arm. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” he says. “We worked an event together a couple years ago in New York—”
“What event?” It had to be related to my family.
“You weren’t there,” he prefaces. “It was a cover photo-shoot for Forbes magazine, and paparazzi leaked our location.”
I remember my parents, Aunt Rose and Uncle Connor, and Aunt Daisy and Uncle Ryke were all on that cover together. “Why was Thatcher there if he was assigned to Xander?”
“We took extra security that day.” Farrow looks to me, then the road. “Once we exited the building, all hell broke loose. Paparazzi stormed Lily’s car before I led her to the door. Hecklers appeared, and one tried to grab your Aunt Rose’s purse.” He shakes his head. “By that time, I’d already safely locked Lily in her car without me. I could see this dickhole behind me, messing with Rose. I turned, cold-cocked him, and as soon as I put a hand on Rose’s back—I was tased.”