Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“The other elephant in the room,” he replied with a pointed look.
Emerson glanced at the header from the community college. “What?”
“Nursing school. Jill, from Flying High? She enrolled for the winter semester and gave me the information. You obviously can check it out yourself on the website.”
He pushed the flyer away with a frustrated sound. “I can’t—”
“Just think about it.” Rhys tempered his tone, knowing he’d have a fight on his hands if he leaned too hard. Emerson never considered his own future, but maybe now that Rhys was involved, he might soften a bit. “There’s a two-year program. You can always start there. Some classes are online, and before you say anything about the kids, I’m absolutely gonna help you.”
Audrey glanced away from her cell from her perch at the counter. “Em, you’d totally be awesome.”
“Yeah,” Sam added, over the top of his computer screen. “Look how well you took care of us—and Rhys.”
“You’re killing me,” Emerson grumbled, but Rhys noticed how his shoulders unwound a fraction. That was a victory all its own. “I’ll consider it.”
As soon as Emerson headed upstairs to change, Rhys high-fived the kids before turning back to the oven, where his pan of homemade mac-and-cheese was bubbling. It was one of the kids’ favorite recipes, and they could have leftovers too, which gave Emerson a break when Rhys had a later shift at Flying High.
After dinner, they’d be heading across the street to do a walk-through of the upstairs now that the work was done, and Rhys had promised to FaceTime his mom so she could be included. It was a topic he and Emerson had been avoiding, and Rhys felt a bit melancholy about moving back, which was ridiculous because it was literally a stone’s throw away. Except somehow the house didn’t feel like his anymore, not as much as the Rose home did. But it was best not to be melodramatic about it. They had plenty of time to figure their relationship out, and he certainly didn’t want to appear too needy. Emerson already had enough on his plate.
Besides, he’d probably still sleep over sometimes—they’d made good use of that master bedroom, that was for sure. And Emerson might’ve had the same idea, as he swept back into the kitchen, kissed his cheek, then glanced over his shoulder, making sure they didn’t have an audience.
Audrey was busy setting the table, and Sam was putting his laptop away.
“My turn tonight,” he whispered as he casually squeezed Rhys’s ass.
“Mmm,” Rhys replied. “Careful, or I’ll drag you to the bedroom right now.”
Although their first couple of intimate times had been sweet and cautious and perfect, last night had been mind-meltingly good. Emerson was becoming more comfortable in his own skin and somewhat bolder, he guessed was the word, asking for exactly what he wanted, which was hot as fuck. He’d turned into a sexy little minx right in front of Rhys’s eyes.
Jesus, the noises Emerson made as Rhys’s mouth and tongue worked him over, tasting every part of his skin he could reach until Emerson was a whimpering, trembling mess… As if he’d never been pleasured before. And maybe he hadn’t, not like that. Because Rhys had never wanted anybody as much as he did Emerson. So he showed him, by licking down the center of his chest, sucking on his nipples, paying special attention to his thighs, the underside of his knees, and over to his balls as Emerson squirmed and swore. Emerson’s skin was beautifully flushed, from the apples of his cheeks down to his thighs as he begged Rhys to suck his cock. He’d burrowed his fingers in Rhys’s hair and impatiently fed him his shaft, easing the swollen head between Rhys’s lips, apparently right where he liked it.
“Your mouth feels too good,” he’d groaned, snapping his hips in shallow thrusts in an effort not to jam his cock down Rhys’s throat, though Rhys wouldn’t have been opposed to it.
Rhys had hollowed his cheeks to take more of him inside as he gripped Emerson’s sac, then brushed a finger against his hole. “Oh, fuck.” Emerson had shuddered, clearly liking how that felt. Duly noted.
Before he’d cried out and spurted down Rhys’s throat, Emerson had smoothed Rhys’s bangs from his forehead, so much affection and gratitude in his gaze that Rhys’s heart had felt swollen and achy. Afterward, it had only taken Emerson’s grip on his cock and the whisper of his warm mouth against the slit to make him shoot all over Emerson’s lips and chin. Fuck, he needed to get better at that. Emerson might’ve agreed.
The timer on the stove roused Rhys from his steamy thoughts, and he reached for an oven mitt to pull out the simmering dish.
At dinner, Sam announced he’d maybe-sort-of made a friend, a new kid who sat next to him in science class.