Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
My cock responds, and I pull him closer. I have the urge to roll on top of him and pin him down, but … kissing. This is supposed to be about kissing.
Denver’s hands trail down my chest, and just like last night, I’m not self-conscious of my body like I thought I’d be. His fingers wander over my shirt like they want to explore every inch of my torso. I’m close to sitting up to take my shirt off because I want to feel his hands on my skin, but to do that, I’d have to stop kissing him, and I’m not ready to do that yet.
I want to keep going until I’ve found a definitive result. I want a damn epiphany. But I don’t think that’s how this works in real life.
I’m loving kissing him. I’m enjoying being pressed against his body. It’s bigger and more masculine than I’m used to, but that only makes me hold tighter. I run my hand down his back, exploring and taking him all in.
My body trembles, my cock aches, and while that should be proof enough, I want to keep feeling good without overthinking it.
The basics of it are simple: Denver means the world to me. He’s the only person I’ve ever cried over, other than when my dad passed away, but living without him sucked, and I never want to do it again.
At the same time, I don’t want to sit back and analyze my sexuality and dissect it or struggle with it, and maybe that’s what has been making me put all that raw emotion in a box labeled Doesn’t Make Sense So Don’t Even Try.
Out of nowhere, Denver breaks his mouth from mine.
“No.” I follow after him, trying to get him to kiss me again, but he holds firm.
“Mase …” He sounds so tortured. “If you’re going to freak out, I need to know now.”
“I’m not freaking out. I want more.”
“More what?”
Damn, I don’t know the answer to that. It’s like I’m a teenager again, back when kissing was everything and the thought of sex was alluring, but the thought of going below the belt made me nervous as fuck.
“Keep kissing me? Please?”
“Not enough data to find an answer?”
“Exactly.”
Denver pulls away completely now. “Instead of more kissing, I think maybe you should try to wrap your head around what we just did because at some point, I need to protect myself.”
I want to protest, but can I? Here, in this moment, there are so many things I want to do to him, but when it comes to tomorrow and how I’ll be feeling then, I have no idea what’s going to happen, and it’s unfair of me to ask him to do anything more when I can’t give him a clear answer.
“That’s fair,” I say.
He flops back onto his pillow and then rolls away from me. A coldness fills the gap between our bodies, and our breathing is the only sound in the dark room.
I want to say something, but I don’t have the right words. No words in the English language could adequately describe what that was.
My cock aches, but telling him I have a major case of blue balls could either help this situation or make things worse. This isn’t really about sex.
Denny’s breathing is uneven, and there’s this tension rolling off him, letting me know he’s not asleep.
“Denny?”
“Mm?”
“I …” I what? I really liked kissing you. I wasn’t expecting to like it so much. I want to do it again.
All of the above.
I went into that half expecting Denver to realize he was wrong, not the other way around. I’m glad to be wrong, but at the same time I’m not. Because I’m no closer to working out what has changed between us.
I can only accept that something has.
“Uh, goodnight,” I mutter.
“Night.”
Yep. I’m definitely not getting any sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Denver
I had no idea my self-preservation instincts were stronger than my need to get off, but apparently, they are.
I shouldn’t have even kissed him, and I know I’ll regret it come daylight. Which will be soon because there’s no way I can sleep after that, and I’ve been staring at the bathroom door ever since. Without a doubt, if I rolled over, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from touching him.
Kissing him.
Heartache be damned.
Mason’s mouth is as strong and confident as he is. His touch is as warm as his heart.
If I was confused years ago, I’m not now.
I’ve been in love with Mason Nash for close to ten years. Nothing compares to being with him even if we’re just hanging out. And that’s why I had to stop kissing him. Because as desperate as I am to be closer to him, to explore his body with my tongue, and do many, many things I’ve only ever fantasized about, I know if I didn’t stop it, I’d be in so deep I’d never recover from it if he walked away.