Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
“Oh right. Shit. Of course. Long flight. You probably want to get to your room, and yada yada yada,” he says, then he squares his shoulders. “See? I’m working on my allyship.”
I’m pretty sure that’s not how allyship works, but I shut my mouth. Even though I want to say Why yes, Malcolm, I have plans to strip TJ naked. Put my tongue all over his body. Maybe even up his ass. How do you feel about allyship now?
“Cool. Let me know if you need any pointers,” TJ says, thoroughly deadpan, and I rein in a laugh. “But we can have that drink on Saturday.”
“Sweet. Let’s grab a beer before the show.”
“Sure. DM me,” TJ says, then gazes longingly toward the sleek elevator banks just out of reach.
Malcolm shakes his head. “Nope. Not falling for that, DM me. Pick a time now.”
Wow. He has a way to go on both allyship and basic manners.
“Okay, how about . . .” TJ pauses, and I can tell he’s trying to work out an hour that won’t overcommit him.
“The show’s at eight,” I say in my most polite voice, eager to ferry TJ away from this guy. “How about a seven fifteen cocktail? We have plans in the afternoon.”
“Sure. Seven fifteen is good,” Malcolm says. “Speakeasy at The Extravagant work for ya?”
“It’s on my calendar,” TJ says. Then we say our goodbyes, and Malcolm heads through the casino.
Once he’s far enough away, I turn to my companion. “I’m so sorry I ever suggested you say yes to drinks with him. If I blow you, will you forgive me?”
“Contrition costs three blow jobs,” TJ says.
“I’m ready to pay.”
As we head to the elevator, he sighs heavily. “I know I could say no to him, but I don’t trust that guy, and I’d rather know the enemy. Plus, he was a world-class jackass to Hazel online, and he knows we’re tight, so I’m going for intel.”
My heart thumps a little harder when I hear his reasoning. “You’re a good friend,” I say, then I glance down at my shirt. It reeks of Axe Body Spray. “Though, I do feel like I need a shower after that interaction.”
“You and me both.”
That’s an excellent idea.
23
PING-PONG TABLE SWORD FIGHTING
Jude
This suite is the shit. Plush living room, a fully stocked bar, and a bathroom the size of my New York apartment. Plus, the shower is tops.
TJ and I get clean together, washing off the flight. Once we’re dry, he tugs on basketball shorts, and I pull on black boxer briefs with banana illustrations on them. We head to the living room, where he tells me he’s making a reservation at a sushi place for Saturday night.
He holds up his phone. A mouth-watering piece of mackerel sashays across the screen. “This place in The Extravagant has private rooms, so I’m going to book one. Jason will be here. Luke, too, from the Leopards. And Christian Laird is also here for the concert. You cool with him joining us?”
So much cooler than I was a week ago. “Sounds like a who’s who of queer sports stars and actors.”
He laughs. “Pretty much.”
“Sounds like my kind of dinner party. And Christian is perfectly fine. Anyone but the Man’s Man is welcome,” I say as I pad over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, checking out the bright lights of the city spread out below us, an invitation to revel in the night.
I plan to, Vegas.
“Done. I made the reservation and texted the guys,” TJ announces. I turn from the window as he sets his mobile on the bar, then grabs a bottle of champagne and pours.
I meet him in the middle of the living room, in front of the couch, where he hands me a flute. “To your absolution,” he says.
I give him a crooked grin. “And it’ll be more than . . . lip service.”
“It better be a full-service lip service,” he says.
As he swallows some champagne, I stare, watching his Adam’s apple move. I never imagined taking a drink could be so sexy or that it was possible to be this attracted to someone. It’s a little terrifying to want so intensely. The closer I get to him physically, the closer I feel emotionally. I worry about us going too fast and imploding before the job is done.
Before the final week.
But I can’t seem to find the will to slow down. I drink some of the bubbly then set it down on the coffee table as we sink onto the couch together. TJ stretches an arm around me, tracing lazy, luscious lines on my shoulder. “You know that ping-pong scene I worked on today?”
Wherever his question is leading, it sounds like someplace I want to be. “I know of it,” I tease.
“It wasn’t just a friend scene,” he says.
I sense he’s offering me a bit of himself that he’s guarded until now, and my ears perk up. “What was it?”