Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Liam turned his face a fraction of an inch. Their lips lined up. Liam’s curved in a hint of a smile before he struck, nipping Tate’s lower lip.
He growled. The sting fired up his blood and drove him to act. He grabbed the back of Liam’s neck with one hand and a firm ass cheek in the other—God, that ass was a handful of perfection—and yanked him even closer. He covered Liam’s mouth with his own in a deep kiss.
Finally.
Liam tasted of gin and freedom. Within seconds, Tate grew drunk on both.
Fireworks went off behind his closed eyelids as Liam’s tongue slid against his own. The guy wasn’t shy. He kissed like a dream and wasn’t afraid to take what he wanted, which seemed to be Tate’s tongue dancing with his the same way their bodies had moved seconds ago.
Soft but sure hands landed at the nape of his neck, playing with the shaggy hair he should have cut weeks ago. A rumble built in his chest like a cat seeking affection. Those hands felt so good, and they were only on his damn scalp.
He had to get himself under control, or he’d fucking die the second Liam got those hands on his skin.
Though, if he was going to go out, that was the way to do it.
It sure beat the bloody attack if his brother and friends found out about this night.
CHAPTER THREE
HE’S HUNGRY.
It was Liam's first thought when Tate kissed him like a man starving, and Liam was there for it.
He’d felt Tate’s presence before he saw him and prepared to reject the guy right off. Of course, he could use a strings-free hookup, but he’d meant it when he’d said he hadn’t come to the club for that. But when he opened his eyes to find the other man close and staring, he lost his ability to speak.
Sporting a plain charcoal T-shirt and worn jeans, Tate hadn’t dressed to impress, but it worked on him. Boy, did it work on him. So did the height, shaggy, dark blond hair, deep blue eyes, and slight scowl. Combined with his general don’t-fuck-with-me vibe and impressive muscles, Tate made Liam’s stomach flutter. So much for not wanting a hookup. In his defense, it’d been a long time since he had such an instant and powerful physical reaction to a man. And if the hard-on grinding all over him was any indication, Tate wanted him too.
He tasted of beer and the faintest hint of cigarettes, which did nothing to negate his bad-boy image. The men Liam typically dated or hooked up with were from a similar walk of life, New York City twenty-somethings clambering up the ladder of success. Tate didn’t seem like the type to give a fuck about his social media presence or financial portfolio. Something about him felt exciting, daring, and different, and it woke Liam’s desire.
Tate squeezed his ass, and Liam moaned into his mouth. The guy knew how to use his tongue. Within minutes, Liam was a quivering mess of lust and need. They broke away, gasping for breath.
Tate’s dirty blond hair stuck out in all directions from Liam’s wandering hands, and his deep blue eyes had darkened to match the ocean just before a storm. Panting, they stared at each other, no longer dancing.
Liam’s cock was so hard it ached, testing the strength of his jeans zipper. He’d gone beyond the point where it could be ignored. An orgasm was a must, and soon. There was always the option of taking care of it himself, but why on earth would he go that route when he had a sexy-as-fuck man with an equally hard dick watching him with a ravenous gaze.
The tiny part of his brain that remained rational screamed that going home with a man he didn’t know in a city he didn’t know had disaster written all over it. But his brain didn’t have enough blood for a majority vote.
“Wanna take this somewhere else?” he asked, rising on his toes to reach Tate’s ear. God, yes, he loved a bigger man. He loved feeling engulfed and overpowered under the right circumstances. “I live too far to head to my place. You close?”
“No.” The word was clipped as though the thought of going to his house seemed ridiculous. “Bathroom?”
Then again, maybe he was merely as desperate as Liam.
It’d been years since he’d had a quicky in a club’s bathroom—not since his college days. With a nice apartment within walking distance from many of New York's trendiest clubs, bathroom hookups hadn’t been necessary.
You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
Nope. He was in Oklahoma, and things were different here. Was he really going to do this? Head to the bathroom in this tacky club to tug some random guy’s dick?
Tate met his gaze. The raw hunger nearly brought him to his knees right there. He pressed the heel of his hand over his cock with a hiss.