Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
“Right? I did it the morning I left for college.”
I traced the jagged edges of the circle, then met his gaze, overwhelmed by emotion. “Why?”
“Dunno. I had a bad habit of defacing public property in my youth. And I liked you,” he added flippantly. “Still do.”
“I like you too. I just—”
“Ah, no, no. No words.” He waved his hands manically and made a face like a kid sitting at the dining room table with a bowl of peas. “Words make shit weird.”
True.
I worried my bottom lip between my teeth, unsure how to navigate something that felt like an important revelation in spite of his lackadaisical tone.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Take me home and have your way with me, Nol. You might have to ride me or something, though. I can get it up no prob, but it’s been a long day and I swear to God, if I heard Emmett tell that stupid-ass story about the time he…”
I sneaked one last peek at the ivy-covered wall and followed him to my truck, my mind buzzing in an effort to straddle the divide between past and present. As if it mattered somehow. It didn’t.
Nothing mattered but now.
This moment was all I could control. The secrecy was still there, but the shame was long gone. We were a better, stronger version of our teenage selves, and we could do whatever we wanted. No overthinking, no second-guessing.
Thank God the drive to his place was short.
We made out on his porch, tongues tangling as he worked his key into the lock, then fell inside and ricocheted off the foyer wall, jockeying for dominance. Shirts were yanked off and belt buckles clanked noisily as we fought to get to skin, breaking feverish kisses only when absolutely necessary.
The details went fuzzy, but somehow, we made it upstairs. We rolled naked around his giant bed, pumping our hips as we slid our precum-slicked cocks together. The friction sparked a wildfire of need. I wanted him inside me and I didn’t want to wait.
I climbed onto Vinnie’s lap and braced my hands on his chest as he stretched me open with two fingers. I batted him away when he went for a third, sheathed his cock, added lube, and slowly lowered myself.
My breath hitched as the initial burn receded and pleasure flooded my veins. Vinnie’s awed expression turned wicked in a flash. He smacked my ass once hard and growled, “Ride me.”
So I did.
I dug my knees into the mattress and bounced on his dick like a cowboy on a bucking bronco. Vinnie gripped me at the base, stroking me and dragging his thumb over my tip in the way he knew drove me wild. I rode his huge tattooed body with gusto, admiring his every contour, every scar. He was so fucking beautiful, so big and powerful, and yet…kind of sweet.
His adoring gaze had an awestruck quality that assured me I wasn’t in this alone. He was right there with me. And he kept it sexy. Vinnie might have been newly acquainted with his gay side, but he held nothing back. He gave me everything he had, pumping into me from below with short, wicked strokes until I had no choice but to fall apart.
We came to slowly, cleaned up, and dove under the covers. He tucked me close, cradling my head on his chest. He whispered, “Good night” and kissed my forehead with an easy affection that did something funny to my heart.
I think that was when I realized that my “living life in the moment” rhetoric was all well and good, but I was still fucked ’cause damn it…I’d done what I promised myself I’d never do.
I’d fallen in love with Vinnie Kiminski.
11
VINNIE
I might have mentioned this already, but it bore repeating—I loved sex. I mean, like…I really loved it. But I’d never been good at being part of a couple. Being a boyfriend had always felt like work. Remembering to call, considering feelings, and memorizing schedules or habits…yuck. It was exhausting.
Sex, on the other hand, was easy. That was probably why Sienna and I got along so well.
We liked each other fine, but our expectations had always been appropriately low. Even when we were sort of in a “relationship” I wouldn’t have been offended if she told me she’d met someone else or simply wanted to move on.
I did not feel that way about Nolan. No way, no how.
He turned me inside out like no one else. I thought about him constantly, then had to concentrate on not acting like a lovesick puppy the second he walked into a room. My smiles were too big, my playful bear hugs lasted a beat too long, and I had a tendency to stand too close to him in public. I was under a wickedly strong spell.
That had to be it. Why else would I notice crazy shit like the fact that his mouth tugged to the right when he was amused and trying not to be and that he bit his bottom lip when he was anxious or pensive? I wanted to be in on his jokes. I wanted to soothe his nerves and know what he was thinking. The kind of stuff that had nothing to do with sex.