Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Oh, I could show you wandering hands all right.”
I groan. “I’m sorry I’m all … twitchy. I’m just …” Trying desperately not to lose this bet.
The funny thing is, though, the warmth in my gut isn’t from the hot water. The edginess under my skin isn’t because I’m not used to Jordan touching me. I think it’s because I want more of it.
“If you want, I can tell you when I’m about to do something. Like right now, I’m going to put my arm around you and pull you against my side.”
I let him. Our hips and thighs touch under the water, and I get my answer. He was not psyching me out this time. He’s naked in here. And that thought lights up something inside me.
“Then,” he continues, “I’m going to intertwine my feet with yours and sit here casually as if we’re not touching while asking you questions to try to distract everything you’ve got going on up here.” He taps the side of my head.
“Okay. Ask away.”
“Umm, what was your childhood like?”
“Boring,” I answer right away. “I come from a loving family with a mom and dad who adored me, who let me do what I want, who didn’t flinch at me asking to audition for a boy band in LA, and yeah, my childhood couldn’t have been more uneventful if I tried.”
“Me too. Well, except being from a divorced family, but that’s probably more common than parents who are together these days. And even then, my mom and dad didn’t end on bad terms. Now that I’m older and out of the house, I assume they don’t talk at all, but they were both very involved and civil when I was growing up.”
“Ah, so your relationship issues are all on you, then. Wait, who can you blame for all your fucked-upness?”
“I think I can safely say that’s on Hollywood.”
“Is narcissism part of your personality? Narcissists think nothing is their fault.”
Jordan’s lips flatten as he thinks about it. “I think everyone is a little narcissistic, don’t you?”
“Not me. I’m perfect.”
“Of course you are. Blake Monroe, great-great-great-grandnephew of Marilyn Monroe—”
“Uh, yeah, no, that’s not true.”
Jordan pulls back. “It’s not? Are you sure? I read that about you somewhere.”
“Well, if it was on the internet, it must be true.”
“Duh. A few days ago I died, and now here I am. I’m basically like Jesus. Internet says so.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
Jordan trails his hand down my arm, and I try not to shiver. The soft way his fingertips brush over my skin feels like his hands are all over me.
“Hmm, what else … Was the guy in the club the first guy you’ve ever kissed?”
“Yep.”
“Had you ever thought of being with another guy before?”
“Thought about it, sure. Doesn’t everyone?”
“Oh, my sweet precious baby bi, sweetie. Honey.”
“Hooray for condescension! But I mean, we’re in Hollywood. Publicly it’s not very queer, but on the DL, it’s like everyone and their dog is on the spectrum somewhere.”
“True,” Jordan relents. “Hollywood is a lot gayer than people want you to believe.”
“I think it’s only natural to wonder when you’re surrounded by it but can’t exactly ask questions, you know? I remember when I found out about both Harley and Ryder and seeing how our management team made them squash it down and basically told them to pass for straight or the whole band would suffer. We were not to speak of it or pay attention to it, and if we saw anything, it was our job to keep our mouths shut. So, yeah, I guess I’ve always thought about what it would be like, but maybe I’ve been scared into not entertaining those thoughts.”
“Welcome to the town of Repression. Population: the entire queer community.”
“It’s a sucky place to live.”
“It is. Which is why …” Jordan moves so he’s in front of me.
The water sloshes over me, and then his big hands grip my knees and push them apart while he settles in between them. He must be on his knees on the bottom of the hot tub. He’s so tall, he still has his head above water.
“Why, what?” I ask.
“Why it would be a good idea for us to hook up.” He lowers his head, but I reach up and cover his mouth with my wet hand.
“You just want to win the bet.”
He pulls away from my hand so he can talk. “Not at all. I want you to live out any fantasy you’ve remotely thought about before squashing it down because you thought it was wrong.”
“There’s no fantasies. I haven’t thought about it that hard.”
“You have thought about kissing, though. And that has nothing to do with the bet.” Jordan moves even closer now.
My breath becomes stilted, my cock begins to harden the closer Jordan gets, and he’s right. I have thought about kissing. Kissing him. Kissing that guy in the club. Kissing in general.