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)
Throwing Tate a sassy grin, Liam said, “I did do good, didn’t I?”
Laughing, Tate nodded. “Hell, yeah, you did. And your modesty is admirable too.”
He’d be lying if he said the approval didn’t send him to the moon. “What can I say? I’m a performer. We all have a bit of a praise kink.”
“Is that so?” One of Tate’s eyebrows rose. “So, you’d like it if I told you how sexy you look when you’re dancing? How you command the room and captivate everyone in your presence. How you’re so beautiful, not a single person can look away.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.” He blew on his fingernails, then buffed them on his shoulder, making Tate laugh again. “I like it when you laugh.”
“You bring it out of me. We should celebrate your big night.”
“Oh yeah?” He ground his hips into Tate’s quickly growing erection. “What did you have in mind?”
“That, definitely that,” Tate said as he rocked up, meeting Liam’s thrust. His face went serious. “But there’s something I need to tell you first.”
Liam stopped moving. “Well, shit. Nothing good ever starts with that sentence.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TATE GRABBED LIAM’S hips as he started to climb off his lap. “Stay.” It sounded more of a plea than a command.
Liam stilled, frowning down at the man beneath him. “Yeah?” Part of him needed the physical separation, something to keep his heart from becoming too entwined with Tate’s and ending up battered if this news was negative.
Who was he kidding? It was far too late to keep his heart out of the picture. It became involved the moment he realized Tate hid a vulnerable soul beneath his tough exterior.
“Yeah. I mean, if you want to.” The uncertainty in Tate’s tone ate at Liam’s heart. He wanted to soothe this man, to promise that no matter what Tate was about to say, everything between them would be okay.
But will it?
“I want to,” Liam said as he settled back down astride Tate. “I like any excuse to be close to you, but I’m not gonna lie, you’re making me a bit nervous.” Or extremely nervous.
“I know.” Tate chuckled, but it held no humor. There went that hand again, running through his hair. If this turmoil continued, he’d be bald before his twenty-sixth birthday, whenever that was. Something for Liam to discover.
After blowing out a long breath, Tate cleared his throat. “I have a story to tell you. It, uh, might be hard to hear, and it might change how you feel about this… us… me.”
“Okay…” With each passing second, tension coiled tighter. Tate’s solemn expression did nothing to ease Liam’s nerves. Whatever story he was about to tell, it would suck. “Go ahead.” Doubt was clear as day in his voice, but he didn’t shy away from hearing Tate out. He’d promised to be a safe space for the other man, so he worked to keep from judging before he knew anything. He slipped his hands under Tate’s shirt, splaying his fingers across those delicious abs. The warmth of Tate’s skin grounded him.
“I like your hands on me.”
“Good.” He smiled as he stroked all over Tate’s torso. “Then I’ll keep touching as long as you start talking.”
Tate grimaced. “Okay, um… where to start? I guess at the beginning.” His mouth turned down. “Every summer since we were kids, Randy and I, along with our friends, uh, went to the county fair together.”
The county fair. Oh God. Liam’s hands stilled. He stared down at Tate with dread creeping down his spine.
Stop talking.
He couldn’t speak.
Tate looked everywhere around the apartment but at Liam. “My dad was long gone by the time I could talk in full sentences, and my mom, well, you’ve heard a bit about her, so as far back as I can remember, Randy and I walked there ourselves. Sometimes with our friends, sometimes alone. The summer I turned fifteen,”—Fifteen. I can’t breathe.—“Randy couldn’t wait to get there because, uh, Whit, his now wife, had promised him a BJ if he got to her before another, Daryl of all people.”
He peeled his thick tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Wow, sounds like true love.” He’d never know how he managed a joke despite the enormous weight crushing his chest.
Tate grunted. “Something like that. Anyway, he ran ahead, and I took my sweet time walking there. When I finally made it, I wandered around for a bit, looking for my crew.” He stroked his thumb back and forth over Liam’s thigh in a move that seemed more to soothe himself than anything else. “I didn’t find them, but I saw this stage with dancers who looked like they were in high school.”
Liam gasped. Memories of that performance swarmed into the forefront of his thoughts.
Swan Lake.
At the time, they’d all grumbled about performing Swan Lake in Swan, Oklahoma. How cheesy they thought it had been to match the ballet to the town. He’d played Prince Siegfried. And he’d loved every second of it. Until everything imploded.