Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 18571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18571 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 93(@200wpm)___ 74(@250wpm)___ 62(@300wpm)
Sorry, Nora. Every man for himself.
Oliver’s shoulders fell in a subtle slump. “Too bad. I kind of enjoyed having this place to myself. Not that I’m hoping your brother’s business fails or anything. Especially since it looks like he’s about to be a father at any minute.” He shook his head dolefully. “Now it sounds like I’m calling his wife fat, when she’s always been so nice to me. Have I mentioned I have no social skills?”
Apparently they had something in common.
“Don’t worry about it. Bronte is about as pregnant as someone who isn’t having triplets can be, and she blames my brother for it on a weekly basis. It hasn’t slowed her down any, though.”
Oliver’s lips quirked. “Thank you for the save. Now that I’ve managed to stick my foot in my mouth twice in the last two minutes, did you come over here for a reason? Other than introducing yourself and letting me know the man at the front desk is straight?”
Matthew’s smile returned at that. “I did manage to slip that in. You’re very blunt, aren’t you? I think I like it.”
It was refreshing and oddly charming.
“Nobody likes it.” Oliver’s beautiful brow furrowed in disbelief. “It comes off like nervous rambling and it’s incredibly off-putting.”
Was he doing it on purpose to keep people away, or had he really believed whoever told him that? “I’m sorry to burst that bubble, but it’s not putting me off at all.”
“You’re the first then.” Oliver bent down to grab his water bottle and his shirt rose up, revealing a strip of skin where his lower back met that award-winning ass.
Matthew nearly swallowed his tongue.
Did he think this would be easy? That talking to him would break the spell? If anything, he was more conflicted. He wanted to utterly defile the beautiful Legs he’d been lusting after for the last few days, and shelter and protect the adorable Oliver he’d only just met.
No, that was wrong. Even adorable Oliver was in danger of being bent in half and fucked into next Tuesday.
You are so screwed.
“Do you like coffee?”
Oliver lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, surprise flickering in his eyes. “You’re asking me out?”
He hadn’t planned on it. Not yet, anyway. His mission was to say hello, nothing more. He had totally fucked the mission.
“I am. If you’re available.”
As in, not dating the owner of the monster car.
“Tonight?”
“Now, if you’d like.”
Jesus, where had his game gone? Cool and confident with a touch of apathy had worked like a charm since puberty. He sounded too eager. He was too eager.
Oliver lowered his gaze, hiding his reaction. “I have to be honest, Matthew. I wasn’t expecting that.”
Shite. You weren’t? “No pressure, I promise. Just conversation and coffee on me.”
On top of me. Under me.
Stop.
“How about that place around the corner?” he tossed out desperately.
Oliver bit his lower lip and Matthew almost groaned aloud. He needed to quit while he was ahead.
No pressure, he reminded himself sternly. That means no flirting and no innuendo if he agrees. Just keep your erection hidden in your big-boy pants so he doesn’t think you’re some weird perv who’s been watching him all week and jerking off to visions of his delicious ass every chance you get.
He was completely twisted. Here was poor, innocent Oliver, minding his own business, lunging his sexy ass off… He should walk away while it was still an option. For both their sakes.
“I need to shower,” Oliver said abruptly, interrupting Matthew’s escape plan and sending a rush of elation through his bloodstream. “I know the place you’re talking about, but I’ll be at least a half an hour. I’ll meet you there when I’m done?”
Holy mother of merciful— “Yes. I mean, that’s grand. Fine. Just fine.”
Matthew watched as he grabbed his hand towel and water, and strolled slowly toward the locker room without looking back.
He’s going to take a shower. A long. Hot. Shower.
Since he’d helped William grout the tile, Matthew was intimately familiar with that room. It was easy enough to imagine Oliver tugging off his tank and sliding out of his miniscule shorts to step beneath the pounding spray. If he followed him in there, offering to skip coffee in order to wash his back instead, how would Oliver respond?
He could practically feel that golden skin, slippery and wet under his hands. Taste the salt as he licked a thorough trail down to that round, edible—
“Did he break you, Matthew?” Rory teased from across the room. “Can you feel your arms and legs? Blink if you understand me.”
Realizing he wasn’t alone was as effective as a splash of cold water. Maybe Oliver had broken him. “I’m fine. Your first-aid skills won’t be required at this time.”
“Those skills,” Rory specified as Matthew rejoined them. “But you’ll need more help from us, if that little exercise was anything to go by.”