Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Rafe took a step closer. “Are you?” Damn, but his voice was a low rumble that vibrated Hop’s bones.
Was it getting hotter? He finished wrapping the scarf and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Rafe’s loyal discipline had turned into a potent confidence from which it was impossible to hide. He dominated the space. This small display area was no match for an energy so commanding. It made Hop want to bend to his will. What would it be like to have that control focused solely on him—on the goal of bringing him pleasure?
Hop sucked in an annoyed breath. No. Not happening.
Avoiding Rafe’s eyes, he picked up the matching hat and slid it on the mannequin’s head. The gloves went on next, then he maneuvered the snowboard into place.
He didn’t hear Rafe move but he felt him. The heat at his back increased by a thousand percent and Hop froze in place, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
Big palms cupped his shoulders and turned him until he faced Rafe. “Hop, what do I have to do?”
Hop should be reveling in this change of events, but this wasn’t how things were supposed to be. He didn’t enjoy having the choice. It was so much easier to give in, to not make decisions.
“I—I don’t know.”
“I’m asking for your help, as a friend.”
A friend? “Are you kidding me?” He pulled himself out of Rafe’s burning grip and moved so the extra props were between them. “Friends? That’s a joke, right? We were never friends.”
“I’m not your enemy.” Rafe’s nostrils flared and the deepness of his dark eyes sucked Hop in.
He fought the pull with everything he had. “No? If you say so. I guess we’re just a couple of strangers who share some memories.” Hard memories. Painful memories. Memories Hop would kill to forget.
“Hopkins—”
Hop squeezed both hands into fists.
“Hop.” Rafe extended both hands palm forward. “Sorry, it’s hard to get used to. You’re not the same kid, I get it. I’m not the same guy either.”
That was true. Rafe was harder, darker, and even more impressive.
He was just like Roland. Aloof. Selfish. Manipulative. But Rafe was even worse because he made you feel like he cared. Rafe pretended to give a fuck. Then he left you high and dry when you needed him most. Why was that getting harder to remember?
He pushed aside the stupid lust that kept drawing him toward Rafe. He shoved at the pesky compassion that wanted to see the man as a human being with flaws. He bricked the weakness up behind all the disappointment and contempt he’d wallowed in for so many years.
With the cockiest, sassiest, bitchiest attitude he could muster, Hop said, “You almost had me, but there’s one thing you taught me that I’ll never forget. People don’t change. They just get better at lying.”
* * *
Hop walked to rehearsal after work. He needed the fresh air even if the wind chill might cause frostbite before he arrived. The freezing temperature helped cool some of the residual anger he’d been hanging onto since Rafe’s unexpected appearance at the store.
It was harder to let go of the regret, though.
This time his foolishly naive feelings for his unwilling savior could end up costing him more than a few weeks in the hospital. It’d already hurt his best friends.
He’d had the chance to get the Sassy Boyz back where they belonged but he’d let his ego get in the way. How could he face them?
Worse? He had a sinking feeling that Rafe wasn’t going to give up. Whatever had motivated him to seek Hop out, to practically beg, it must be important. And one thing Hop knew for sure, Rafe wasn’t the type to give up on something once he’d set his mind to it. He wanted the Sassy Boyz back and he wouldn’t stop until they were. If he couldn’t convince Hop, Rafe would likely go straight to the top.
Ansel.
Knowing he couldn’t keep the encounter to himself, Hop pushed into the studio.
“You’re late,” Z said. He sat on the floor legs spread wide, stretching.
“Better late than ugly,” Hop replied.
Z snorted, a smile stretching his lips. “Bitch, please, your birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory.”
“It’s a war of the salty sluts up in here.” Ansel tossed his bag to the floor as he came into the room.
“More like a battle of wits, but poor Hop came unprepared.” Z rolled his hips until he was flat on his stomach, legs in a split.
“If you ran like your mouth, you’d be in great shape.” Hop pulled off his layers and dropped them in a pile near the mirrored wall.
“Lame.” Z tsked. “You lose.”
Hop laughed. “I’ll get you next time, you evil genius.”
“In your dreams. I’m the queen of bitchatude, nobody can snatch my crown.” Z finished his stretches and rolled to his feet. “I’ll let you be my minion, though.” He kissed Hop’s cheek, then sat on one of the metal folding chairs.