Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
A touch here and there, a shift, a scoot. We moved closer to where I wanted him, and he dove into a story about French food while I put my arm around him and kissed the side of his head.
Was he even aware?
It was pretty fucking clear he was still attracted to me. I wasn't that blind. But like I'd told Dr. Kendall, which was actually true, attraction wasn’t everything.
"Hey, you're that director, aren't you? You used to work a lot with Tennyson Wright?" The driver eyed me in the rearview. "And you lost your family in a plane crash."
I threw him an irritated look. "I haven't forgotten."
Julian had grown quiet and uncomfortable.
Not that the driver noticed. "Yeah, I'm a screenwriter." Of course he was. We lived in a town where drivers were screenwriters, waitresses were actresses, and bartenders were stuntmen. "Do you take scripts? I heard you're filming with Sophie Pierce now."
Julian spoke for only me to hear. "Is he serious?" He scowled and grabbed my hand.
"Unfortunately, this isn't very rare." I chuckled quietly and threaded our fingers together. Then I addressed the driver. "I assume you've heard of Asher Wright?"
"Of course," he replied.
I inclined my head. "Send your script with a pizza to his office. He'll read it."
While Julian turned his head to stifle his laughter against my neck, the driver eagerly agreed and said he'd send it first thing on Monday. After that, it was quiet again, and I returned my attention to Julian.
"Did you have a good time today?" I pressed my nose to his hair, smelling chlorine and shampoo.
"Understatement. I can't thank you enough." He was killing me. His hand slid up my thigh, and he squeezed it gently. "The only thing missing is-is, um, birthday sex."
That sent a rush of heat through me. "Are you drunk?"
"No… Just tipsy enough to have the balls to ask that of you."
I groaned under my breath as the tip of his tongue licked my neck.
"I wanna be weak tonight, Noah," he murmured. "Please?"
No fucking clue what he meant by weak, but it fit well, I supposed. 'Cause I was too weak to resist.
"Okay." I cupped the back of his head and tilted it back so I could cover his mouth with mine. At the same time, his hand landed on my crotch, and I grunted into the kiss.
I stroked his tongue with mine, sucked on his bottom lip, and struggled to hold back so I didn't end up taking him in the back of the car.
"I've been thinking about this all day," he admitted. "When're we home?"
I broke away from his mouth. He kissed down my jaw and neck, and I looked out the window long enough to see where we were. Then I took his mouth again and kissed him deeply, managing to let him know we'd be home in ten.
He moaned. "Why do you have to be so fucking sexy?"
Why can't I get you outta my fuckin' head?
I hummed, out of breath, and nipped at his jaw as I applied pressure to his hand on my cock. "Jesus fuck, you make me hard."
His breath hitched, and I pulled him in for a brutal kiss so he couldn’t reply. I didn't need his questions on my sexuality. It was as if he couldn’t understand that I found him sexy, too.
We spent the rest of the ride kissing and teasing each other senseless, not giving a shit about the driver. He certainly didn't have any more requests about scripts.
*
"My bed," I managed as he pressed me up against the wall in the hallway between our rooms. "I won't fuck you in the bed you share with your boyfriend."
"Dick. It's not like that." He scratched up my back, our teeth clashing as we kissed. "What about you, you manwhore? Don't make me feel bad when you've screwed half of LA."
The jealousy was seeping out. For both of us, it seemed.
"You're exaggerating." I pulled off his shirt and threw it on the floor. "And I sure as shit didn't bring any women to our fucking home."
I was pathetic. I'd had to get wasted before going home with those broads, and I'd still ended up nauseated the day after, despite bad recollections of what had happened. I'd accomplished absolutely nothing by trying to move on.
"It's not really—I mean, Nick—"
"Don't speak his fucking name." I hauled him up against the other wall and slid my hand down his shorts. "I'm still clean. Are you?" I grasped his cock and stroked it teasingly.
"Yes," he gasped. "I wouldn’t let him—I swear I've been safe. About everything."
Good.
I dragged him into my room and pushed him down on the bed. As he yanked off my tee, I got rid of his shorts, and then I kissed my way down his body.
"Oh, God. Noah, I…fuck!"
I licked the underside of his cock, then closed my mouth over the head and took as much of him as I could. Last time I gave a blow job was in college, so I had to rely on instinct and how I liked getting them. But Julian didn't seem to have any complaints. He moaned and whimpered and cursed, and I got a steady little flow of pre-come in return.