Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Nope.
Those damn tiny shorts did it.
Mostly.
Just like that his ironclad self-control had folded like a fifteen-year-old getting his dick wet for the first time. A shame, really.
Knowing as much didn’t stop Malachi from pulling closed the garage door to shut out the street beyond the alleyway while soft laughter echoed from the tempting woman perched on the stool beside the Mustang.
“Two minutes,” he told Gracen, pointing a finger at her so there was no question who he meant as he headed for the apartment’s open door. “Don’t move.”
She laughed harder, barely keeping her balance on the stool as she pressed her hands, swallowed by the sleeves of her hoodie, into her stomach. “Where are you going?”
He wasn’t about to share the secret of his lack of a sex life when it wasn’t going to matter in fifteen or so minutes. However, it also meant he hadn’t kept condoms on hand in a while. Malachi was all for safe sex, and what came with the rest of that good jazz; he’d never, and wouldn’t, fuck without one unless he was ready for the ultimate consequence.
Malachi didn’t see himself as a father.
The idea terrified him.
Nader, on the other hand, kept a box hidden and pushed between his box spring and mattress, so he didn’t have to explain his sexual habits to his conservatively Pentecostal mother who would almost certainly cut off all contact with her son for his preference for casual sex for good despite his father having already demanded she do so for far less.
Even sinners could be saved.
Until they crossed the final line, apparently. Different people determined where that line laid, unfortunately. Between people, it was never the same.
Malachi hadn’t gotten too deep into Nader’s issues with his parents, but he didn’t need to have an entire conversation with his friend from childhood to know the real deal. The guy was practically a grown-ass man; at what point did his mother’s twice-weekly cleaning and cooking sprees in his kitchen equal giving up his right to be a person of his own making? His parents didn’t allow Nader in his childhood home because he wouldn’t attend church. He worked like a dog doing shifts at the mill in Juniper—saving every penny to pay for his jacked-up truck and the car that was a fucking money pit, in Malachi’s opinion.
He didn’t have time for hours of preaching from the pulpit three nights a week, let alone a female and a whole ass relationship. Nonetheless, Nader wasn’t hurting anybody. He kept a decent job, paid his bills, mostly handled his shit, but it wasn’t good enough for people who demanded his entire life be devoted to the same extreme they sacrificed theirs for.
Shit.
Who wanted to unpack all of that?
Malachi figured that nonsense out a long time ago with his own family—hadn’t he spent enough years running from his stepfather’s reach of control? —and he had zero plans to return to that drama during his time in the valley town. Hence his preference for a low profile while he was there. And he certainly wouldn’t be bringing up any of that mess with the woman waiting for him in the garage.
If all Gracen needed in a guy like Malachi was a distraction from her broken heart, the rest didn’t seem all that important to the end goal.
He wasn’t offended.
Frankly, his dick had been hard under his black denim jeans from the moment she bent over the front hood for a peek at his work getting the engine separated from the rest of the car. He’d played an uncomfortable game of keeping his erection hidden while they worked through their pizza and beer, but that time was over.
And so was his dry spell.
Nearly.
Once he’d found the last two condoms in the box hidden in his friend’s room, Malachi headed back through the small bachelor’s apartment with walls covered in 80’s wood paneling. If it mattered, Gracen hadn’t missed seeing anything important inside the apartment between the shabby couch Malachi was currently using as a bed and the white tiles with orange detailing in the bathroom. At least, the owner of the building allowed Nader to rip out all the shag carpets—that had seen far better days—in place of gray laminate flooring which made the painted white cupboards seem less old compared to the walls and fixtures.
It helped the place.
But not by much.
Malachi closed the apartment door as he stepped back into the connected garage, condoms raised high enough for the grinning girl across the way to see his motive for leaving.
Gracen nodded broadly. “Ah, smart.”
“I’ll have to replace them. They’re not mine.”
Too much info, asshole.
His inner voice really was a bitch.
Gracen didn’t seem interested in asking about the foil packets, already reaching for him with both her hands until he was close enough that she could catch his shirt. Fisting the fabric, she pulled him hard enough toward her on the stool that he stumbled over his damn shoes.