Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 182(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
I grinned. “You know how to butter me up, sugar.”
“It’s a skill.” He threw away his own bottle, then nodded up the trail. “Shall we?”
Yeah. I hadn’t keeled over so far, so I liked my chances.
“I’ll talk to Luke when we get back,” I said. “I’m sure he’s interested. My city boy was always more liberal than me.”
“Liberal,” Greer chuckled.
We picked up the pace and hit another path in the park, one a little closer to the water.
“Don’t get me wrong, Colt. I understand the trepidation. We’ve seen too many relationships go down because of various degrees of openness.”
True, but that was more often than not due to shitty communication and insecurities. Just look at Tate and Kingsley. They’d almost lost the best damn thing they’d ever had—each other. But they’d made it. I’d never seen them so love-sick before as they were now.
Nathan and Ash hadn’t made it, and that sucked. I’d been fairly close to Ash, but he’d left the community when he and Nathan divorced last year. It’d hit kinda close to home, too, since they were like Luke and me. Two Tops who hadn’t been able to let go of each other. Nathan, a rope rigger. Not unlike Luke, though Nathan was definitely in a league of his own. Bondage was his life. And Ash, a Sadist and primal player.
They had kids together, to boot.
“Call me Team Ash, but I don’t see Nathan’s new boy makin’ it with us in the long run,” I said.
Greer turned to me and raised a brow, but then he got it. He understood how I’d gone from point A to point B. “I dug Ash too. Nathan was never really…”
Yeah, he hadn’t been part of our circle. He stuck to the bondage crowd—but maybe that was changing. I didn’t know. We’d seen him more often since the fire, though. He’d really come through on the volunteering, that was for damn sure. He’d offered his services as a psychologist to anyone who needed to talk about the fire. I knew Corey had weekly sessions with him.
“He’s hot as fuck, though,” Greer said. “I kinda wanna see him tie up Archie in one of those suspension-type positions. I’d just sit there and watch.”
I’d grow restless in a minute. I definitely saw the beauty in the finished work; bondage photography was a personal favorite, and we had a couple coffee table books with that at home. But just sitting there watching? Fucking hell, that could take hours.
My breathing grew labored quicker this round, but I enjoyed it more. The knot of unease was gone, and I was able to appreciate the burn in my muscles.
After a few laps in the park, we were ready to head home again—with just one detour, to pick up overpriced cupcakes.
“Don’t tell anyone I overreacted before,” I said, breathing heavily.
I could still hear myself. “It never stays that way!” Christ. As if us having a little bit of filthy fun with people we cared about would escalate into daily orgies and poly houses.
“Don’t sweat it,” Greer replied. “Just last week, it was me. I met up with Kingsley for a couple beers after work and spent the whole fuckin’ time bitching about getting old. I mean, we have Corey now. A fuckin’ twenty-four-year-old. I gotta stay in shape so I can keep up with him.”
Boy, did I know the feeling.
3
I couldn’t lie—the run had put me in a great mood. My shoulders didn’t feel stiff, my mind was at ease, and I felt reenergized. Not to mention starving. So after a shower and pulling on a pair of jeans and a tee, I headed downstairs and joined the others in the kitchen.
Fuck, everything smelled so damn good this time of year.
“Daddy, I think I need more green,” Corey said.
“I’m shocked, really, that you need more of the color of frogs.” Sloan had little Kyla on his hip and a smile on his face.
Greer hadn’t made it back down yet. But considering Archie was helping him in the shower, who knew how long they’d be.
“Come sit, sweetheart,” Luke said. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“Thanks.” I grabbed one of the stools and peered over Kit’s shoulder to see what they were doing. Safe to say, you could tell one of the boys made a living as an illustrator.
Kit’s decorated cookies were still perfect, though. And I said that both as a biased Daddy and someone who’d spent hours next to him on the third floor. His model craft were stunning. He had an eye for detail.
“Lookin’ good, boys.” I brought the stool to the other side of the island where I wouldn’t be in the way.
I wasn’t at all surprised to see a color map from his hobby room next to Kit. He’d been mixing icing like a champ, the colors varying from NATO green to desert sand.