Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
We bet on it.
These guys have no idea.
A memory of a certain hottie and his I want to fuck you eyes rushes to mind and turns my skin hot. I only want sex, and I want it with the guy from the club.
I round up a crew of friends early the next night. Zane and his boyfriend join me, and so do Layla and her girlfriend. It’s a motley crew of gals and guys, straight and queer. We’re decked out in our club finest—tight and sexy and seductive duds.
“And so it begins,” Zane says, as we turn onto the block where Edge resides. “I’ve decided your donation will go to that new cat shelter.”
His dude, Maddox, chimes in with, “You always have a plan, Zane.”
“You know me so well,” Zane says to him, with an insider grin.
I snort-laugh. “Oh, ye of little faith. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
They really don’t. When you figure out at twenty-four you like dudes as well as gals, the last thing you want is to settle down. I want to explore this side of my sexuality. To go beyond the rudimentary kissing.
Well beyond it.
But that’s not all.
Another kind of craving tugs something in my chest. I don’t entirely understand this nascent desire. But I want to. And I think the key might be with that man who watched me dance and ignited a new kind of lust in me.
3
COME AND GET ME
Gunnar
Inside the club, I stay alert for a glimpse of my watcher. He was tall and trim and dripping with elegance. Dark hair, smoldering eyes. Tailored shirt, custom-fitted slacks that hugged his legs, and the exact right amount of stubble.
That was all I saw from the dance floor in the dark. What are the chances of running into the same guy at a club five nights later and recognizing him? No idea, but I’m taking them.
This ache inside me is getting more insistent.
As the music thumps and the drinks flow, I move to the beat, swaying and grinding with my friends on the dance floor. My eyes drift around the club, and—
There.
Right there.
My pulse surges. Possibilities spin wildly in my head.
He’s above, like before, his elbows resting casually on the balcony, his eyes surveying the place.
Land on me, hottie. Land on fucking me.
I will him to check me out because I look damn good tonight. I chose this tight black shirt that shows off my arms and reveals the nooks and crannies of my chest muscles.
His dark eyes laser in on me, and for one hot minute, it feels as if he’s thinking about the shirt too—how it would be his civic responsibility to rip it off me.
Yes, please.
I wink at him—in case he needs the encouragement—then lick my lips. Yeah, I might not know the ins and outs of the bedroom, but I can flirt my ass off. This is when it helps to be a cocky fucker, and I put that innate talent to work for me.
Like I’d summoned him, he peels away from the railing and heads to the stairs.
Oh, yes. The Gunnar charm is working overtime.
I keep moving, my body grooving to the beat of the music.
A minute later, the man comes up behind me, his voice soft and sultry in my ear beneath the driving dance beat. “In the mood to dance?”
My fantasies just get better and better. I’m a sucker for a British accent.
“If you’ve got the moves,” I say to the man now that he’s right where I want him.
“Well, I guess we’ll find out,” he says, all rasp.
I spin around to face him, and holy fuck. He is too hot, too gorgeous, too smoldering. But I am willing to take on his too much. Those lush lips, those carved cheekbones, and those brown eyes that have deep, dirty deeds within them.
“Hello, Handsome Devil,” I say. I’m getting a just shy of dangerous vibe from him.
The man laughs. “Yes, I do have a little bit of the devil in me.” Our thighs touch, and we move together. A spark sizzles down my spine.
Play it cool, Gunnar. Don’t let him know you came here for him.
The Brit steps closer. A whisper of space flirts between our bodies as he moves his hips in a motion that says he knows what to do with his body in bed. Yes, he’s exactly what I want. The kind of man who can show me things, who can handle all this pent-up desire.
“I hope it’s not just a little devil,” I tease.
He spins me around, sets his hands on my biceps, yanks me against his crotch. Hello, hard-on. “Perhaps it’s a rather large devil,” he whispers, all commanding and powerful.
Oh, yes, I like that. Maybe this is why I waited. Once I knew I was attracted to men, I didn’t jump in bed with anyone right away. Hell, as a pro ballplayer, it’s not like I have a ton of free time to date. And I want the right man, someone who can make me forget the world. That’s a tall order, and it would be a rare man who could fill it.