Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
I shrink back. “Oh.”
A warm hand grips my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No! This is weird. And he’s acting normal. Like watching gay porn on my couch is perfectly average for us.
Apparently one orgasm is enough to send me, the one who knows he’s not entirely straight, into a downward spiral of doubt, and it hasn’t even affected Mason.
“I’m waiting,” I say.
“For what?”
“That’s the hard part. I’m waiting to wake up from this dream, I’m waiting for you to realize your ex-best friend jerked you off and to freak out, I’m waiting …” I suck in a breath. “I’m waiting for the moment you break my heart.” Again.
“Oh, Denny.” Mason says this in a tone that suggests I’m either too dumb to live or that he’s truly sorry. Maybe it’s both. But as he pulls me against him and holds me tight, he says in my ear, “I don’t want to break your heart.”
He doesn’t want to. That doesn’t mean he won’t.
“I wish I had answers for you. I wish I could tell you exactly where my head is at, but I don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out. Maybe that’s unfair—”
I shake my head. “It’s fair. I never thought you’d forgive me let alone ever want to kiss me.”
“If I’m being honest, me too. I was ready to hate you forever, but after I got over the shock of seeing you again … I realized I could never hate you. You’re important to me in ways I never knew until you turned up in Montana. It was the kick in my ass I needed to realize you had valid reasons for disappearing on me.”
I pull back and look into his eyes, and when Mason brings his mouth to meet mine, I believe every word he says. Easy as that.
“Let’s try not to think about everything this isn’t and focus on what we know,” Mason says. “We care about each other, and I want to make you happy.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t want you to compromise your happiness for my sake. We will end up hating each other.”
“Eh. I’ve been there, done that, and I don’t want to go back. I hated hating you. Maybe I want to try this instead.”
He kisses me again, the type of kiss that sends tingles all over my body.
He’s trying to reassure me, but after so long apart, all I can think about is what it was like to live without him and constantly analyze if risking our friendship is worth it. I can probably live without his touch, without his lips on mine.
I can’t live without him.
Then his tongue enters my mouth, and I realize, no, now that I’ve kissed him, now that we’ve crossed this line, there’s no way I can go back to being friends.
Mason’s a “see what happens” kind of guy, and I’m the “all or nothing” type.
We’re a recipe for disaster, and yet I can’t bring myself to walk away.
“Stay with me tonight?” I murmur.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mason
“Come on. How am I more in shape than you?” I run a circle around Denver and slap his ass as I do—in the totally straight, jock kind of way that no one would blink at if they saw it. And there’s a good chance people can see it. These trails are popular this time of morning.
“You know, when you woke me up and told me we were going for that workout I wanted, this is definitely not what I had in mind.”
The sun rising over LA is breathtaking, by evidence of Denver struggling to breathe. Surely that’s the reason. It couldn’t be that I’m making him hike almost three miles in the Santa Monica hills. Nope. Not at all. He bends at the waist and puts his hands on his knees. Okay, maybe it is this hiking thing. Hiking, running … totally the same thing.
We’re both covered in sweat, and my heart pounds. It kinda feels like I need to vomit, but Denver? He looks like he’s ready to collapse right here in the dirt.
“I think I worked out our problem,” I say, panting now that we’re apparently taking a break.
“That you’re an evil bastard and are making me run? Uphill? What is wrong with you? Who hurt you as a child?”
“Our problem,” I continue, “is that we haven’t been onstage for-fucking-ever. Those boy band dance moves were lame, but damn, they burned calories and gave us some muscle definition. You’re skinny fit now.”
He glances up at me, his face all red and splotchy. “Like the jeans?”
“Nooo. One would think you’re deliriously dehydrated. I mean you look fit, but you’re just skinny. Me, I look lazy and overweight, but I have muscles hidden under the padding from my time on the tree farm.”
Denver finally stands up straight. “You’re not overweight, for fuck’s sake.”