Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Well…wasn’t he taking his performance all the way to fucking Broadway? Fuck, what if it wasn’t a performance? What if he wanted all the same things I wanted?
“Shut your mouth, Micah,” I growled. “I’m not one of your fans and I’m not afraid to put you in your place if you need it.”
“And what fucking place would that be?” he snapped in fury. “On a fucking pedestal, where everybody else puts me? Forgotten, maybe? That’s another good one in my life. Used? That works, too. Money-maker? Paycheck provider? Fame? Fortune? Any of that sound familiar to you, asshole? Is one of those what you’ve got in mind?” He kicked the wall of the elevator. “That’s my place, isn’t it? I’m good for nothing else.”
His words broke my heart. It was hard to imagine that something so beautiful had been treated so badly…been used so badly. His face was recognized by most of the world, yet he was alone.
“No, actually,” I answered quietly. “I was thinking more like you on your knees with your beautiful ass high in the air.” Turning to look at him, I said, “You disappointed me tonight, Micah. You put your safety at risk with your little stunt and that’s unacceptable and childish. When we get to the room, I intend to spank you—to treat you like a child since you acted like one.” The elevator dinged, letting us know we’d reached his floor. “And after that, Micah, I intend to treat you like a man since you are one.” His eyes widened. “And by treating you like a man, I more than likely mean fucking you. If that’s not what you want, then you’ll need to be more specific when telling me no. I don’t enjoy your games.”
Chapter Five
Jinx
When the elevator door slid open, my feet remained firmly planted against the expensive tile floor as if my flip flops had melted and stuck me straight to that very spot. Landon’s words bumped around in my head, the words childish and disappointment collided head-to-head with the words man and fucking me. This was what I’d wanted, right? I’d provoked him in an attempt to get his undivided attention. My workout shorts had intentionally been the skimpiest available because I’d hoped he would finally notice the body the fashion industry worshipped. The fans, both sexes, had been arranged by me so I could flirt and flaunt. I’d wanted to make him jealous enough to finally see me as a man, to want me as a man.
No, I hadn’t had a clue what I was getting in to, never once been with a guy or even watched gay porn, but something, no, everything inside me demanded that I make Landon want me in a sexual way. My cock definitely knew I wanted him that way, even if I couldn’t begin to explain why. Yes, he was hot—probably the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. His muscles were enough to make anybody’s mouth water and eyes widen with delight. His green eyes were magnificent, and it wasn’t simply because of the coloring; it was the warmth and humor that I’d been able to catch glimpses of. He was the “whole” package, but it wasn’t that. I’d lied; I could explain why I wanted him so badly. I wanted him because he was the first man that didn’t seem to want to use me.
Eli didn’t count; he was family.
“What happened to all your bravery, Micah?” Landon asked quietly, interrupting my thoughts. “Scaredy cat?”
As he watched me, hand extended for me to take it, his eyes flashed that motherfucking warmth and humor that caused my stupid heart to go pitter-patter like a silly schoolboy experiencing his first school crush. My hand reached for his but froze midair when I realized that was my first crush. I’d fucked and ducked plenty of times, but it had never been anything more than fulfilling a physical need. I’d heard that your first crush always lived in your heart and if it was going to be anybody camping out there for the rest of my life, I wanted it to be Landon Honeycutt.
I took his hand and allowed him to lead me toward our room. He was alert as ever, always concerned for my safety, but his touch felt different.
It was warmer.
Tighter.
More possessive.
Intoxicating.
I was in so much fucking trouble.
The hotel door opened, and we stepped inside. As always, he indicated for me to stand next to the door while he inspected the suite to ensure I was safe from any intruders. When he completed the task, he slowly walked toward me. No, he swaggered. Strutted. Hell, I didn’t know but it was a fucking sexy look. As he walked, he shrugged out of his dress jacket and tossed it across the couch. The buttons of the seven-hundred-dollar dress shirt I’d forced him to be fitted for flew in different directions when he ripped the shirt off and dropped it on the floor.