Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“Holy fuck.” Anson thrust again, and then his cock jerked inside me, the hot spurt of his come filling me the way we both wanted.
We stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily, my chest on the counter and Anson leaning over me. He kissed my shoulders and neck over and over. I’d never been with a man who liked simple kisses as much as he did.
Anson said, “I love you so fucking much, I ache with it. I don’t know how I’ll ever survive it. Is it supposed to feel this way?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “But that’s how it feels for me too.”
He kissed me again, then stepped back. We were silent as we gathered our clothes and Anson led me to his room. We took a shower together, then climbed into his bed. He clung to me like he always did, like he couldn’t get close enough or I couldn’t hold him tight enough, his face in my neck and a leg slung over me.
“Mia knows,” he said softly, and my heart stopped. Had it been me? Had I been too obvious?
“Knows what?” I wanted to be sure.
“About me. About us.”
My heart picked up again, this time slamming against my chest, and I smiled. “You told her?”
“Well, not exactly. She saw how we were looking at each other. She put that together with the fact that I don’t date and I’m rarely with women, and figured it out. But she knows, and I didn’t deny it, didn’t deny us. And it felt good. It was okay. She was okay.”
“I’m proud of you.” I kissed the top of his head, meaning what I’d said.
“She understands the worry with football, ya know? She thinks we’re being smart, even though it sucks.” The smile slid off my face, loneliness filling my chest. I shouldn’t feel that way. I understood, but I couldn’t deny it stung. “It feels so good that someone who’s important to me knows.”
When I didn’t answer right away, Anson pushed up onto his elbows. “Did I say something wrong?”
I shook my head. “No, Bashful, you didn’t.”
We were quiet, my hand stroking up and down his arm, and then he said, “It’ll get easier, right? The distance? The secret?”
No, I didn’t think it would. It would get harder. Still, I lied and said, “Yeah, I’m sure it will.”
Because I had a feeling, if it came down to it, if Anson really thought he was going to lose me, he might come out. And if he did, he would regret it. He would resent me. I couldn’t be the reason he might lose his career or have problems with his family. Knowing that didn’t make it easier to deal with, though.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you too.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Anson
“Move! Jesus, you’re really bad at this!” I nudged West with my arm, then continued to shoot. We were playing Call of Duty, and I’d been right—he had no video game systems or a gaming computer at his house. He didn’t play. I’d spent the last couple of days trying to teach him Madden, Call of Duty, and Grand Theft Auto. He was shit at all of them.
“Fuck…fuck!” West gritted out beside me. “What do I do? Never mind, don’t tell me. I hate this shit. Motherfucker! I died. Why do I always die?”
I laughed. “Because you suck. Seriously, West, I didn’t know it was possible to be this shitty at video games. I don’t understand how you’ve never played this.” It blew my mind. There was so much gaming fun I could open him up to.
“I don’t know. It’s not like I haven’t heard of it or haven’t seen people playing. It’s just never been my thing. And you happen to like how I suck.”
The innuendo was strong in his voice, making warmth start at the top of my head and travel down. I knew exactly what he meant, and he knew what it would do to me. When I fucked up and got killed, I tossed the controller to the coffee table. “You’re a cheater.”
“What? I didn’t do anything. It’s not my fault your mind is always in the gutter.”
“Oh no. Not your fault at all.” Teasingly, I rolled my eyes before turning and climbing onto his lap. I straddled him, West’s hands immediately settling on my ass. I loved that even though I was bigger than him and had more muscle mass, I could sit on him like this or he could manhandle me the way he did sometimes when we had sex.
“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice?” West rested against the back of the couch and looked up at me.
“What do you think?”
“I think that by the time our two weeks are over, I’ll be able to kick your ass in one of these games. Have I ever told you I loathe losing? I can’t handle it when I can’t do something.”