Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Liam frowned.
Uh, what just happened?
Sure, he’d expected this to end when it was over, but at the very least, Tate could have walked out of the bathroom instead of sprinting. Maybe held the door and let Liam walk out too.
Rolling his eyes, he jerked the door open and stepped out into the hallway. Tate was nowhere to be seen. Vanished in the time it took Liam to walk five feet out of the stall.
The amazing feeling from two seconds ago gave way to confusion and embarrassment.
This was why he didn’t do hookups. They always left him second-guessing himself and feeling used in the end, even if he’d used his partner just as thoroughly. Well, at least he’d gotten off, though it would have been nice to have said goodbye.
He might as well go home for the night. There was no way he could go out there and dance with another guy while smelling like cum and wondering about the man who’d fled the scene of their crime.
I’m too emotional for this crap.
CHAPTER FOUR
“YO, T, YOU ‘bout ready to go, man?” Randy pounded his fist on Tate’s bedroom door.
Tate rolled over with a groan as the morning sun seared his eyeballs. Damn, the light hit right through his window at this time of year.
If Tate had thought his brother moving to his own trailer with Whitney two years ago would have given him more privacy and space, he’d have been dead wrong. The asshole still acted like he lived there, coming and going whenever he damn well pleased.
“Ma, why the hell do you let this loser in?” Tate shouted.
“She ain’t here, Sleeping Beauty.”
Right. Mondays, she got up at the ass crack of dawn to head out and blow whatever tips she’d earned over the weekend at the diner on the damn ponies.
“Give me five minutes. Meet you outside.” He rolled flat on his back, arms and legs starfished in the double bed he’d slept in since childhood.
“Your lazy ass better not still be in bed.”
“It’s not. I’m up. Give me five fucking minutes, Jesus.” The one time Randy was ready before him, he was acting like Tate lounged around all day, every day. They’d been working together for years, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Randy was the fuck-up. Of course, his brother had to be on top of his shit today when Tate had been balls-deep in Dream Liam and about to blow his load. Maybe it was a good thing Randy woke him before Dream Tate could bust a nut. With his luck, he’d have jizzed himself in his sleep like a damn horny teenager.
“Four minutes,” Randy grumbled. “And you’re buying coffee.”
He scrubbed a hand over his scruffy face. He always bought the damn coffee. For a dollar at the closest gas station, the crap shouldn’t even be called coffee. It was one drip away from sludge. But they rarely had any at home, and it had caffeine, so they bought some almost every day.
He lifted an arm and turned his head, taking a quick sniff. Not terrible or good, but nothing a little deodorant couldn’t cover. He hopped out of bed while stripping off his T-shirt. Shit, he must have been tired if he’d slept in the thing. Typically, he slept in as little as possible. Clothes bothered the hell out of him while he was trying to sleep. A red, grout-stained tee stuck out from his dresser drawer. Tate grabbed it and tugged it over his head. The stains didn’t matter, he’d earn a dozen more before lunch.
He changed his boxer briefs and then shrugged on a ratty pair of jeans. They were old, torn, and easy to work in. After taking a leak and a thirty-second tooth brushing, he was out the door and ready for the day.
“Nice hair,” Randy said with a snort as Tate jogged to his car.
“Shut the fuck up.” He really needed a haircut.
As he raked his fingers through it in a wasted attempt to tame the mess, a flash of someone else’s hands playing with the strands at the nape of his neck ran through his mind. Liam had soft hands, unlike Tate’s, which were beaten to hell but still strong. He’d wanted Liam to tug so he could feel the sting, but there hadn’t been time for that. They’d both been too focused on getting off.
And then Tate had been focused on getting the fuck out of there. Being with Liam was good. Too damn good. The kind of good that threatened everything in his carefully constructed life. He’d seen the question in the other man’s eyes. He’d been about to ask for a repeat, or a date, or even a phone number, and despite knowing it could never happen, Tate would have been tempted. He avoided that temptation at all costs because he knew himself, and one day, he’d give into the temptation and fuck up everything.