Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 644(@200wpm)___ 515(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
I know a lot of my rage is displaced, that I couldn't take it out on Scott without blowing our cover, and now it has nowhere to go, but emotions don't work like a fucking light switch, no matter how hard I've strived to get a grip on them.
I fully expect Zeus to storm off to his room without so much as a word, but relief drops his shoulders as we enter the house and I lock us inside.
He turns to face me, sadness and pain in his eyes.
I press my index finger to my lips before pointing to the ceiling, reminding him that the house is bugged. He dips his head, telling me that he hasn't forgotten.
As if he controls that switch on my emotions, my irritation quickly fades when he steps closer, his hand cupping my cheek.
His eyes search mine, and I know he's trying to gauge where my head is at, a silent question wondering if I'm okay when our eyes lock.
I let my eyes flutter closed, head tilting to lean into his touch, and I just stand there, soaking up the attention I never imagined I'd get from him, doing my best to ignore the warning of the weakness I know it forms where he's concerned.
All too soon, his touch disappears, the warmth from the contact slowly cooling as my eyes open.
He gives me a sad smile, and I give him one right back.
Tonight was fucking awful, and the worst part about all of it is that it may end up being one of our better nights, given how sideways shit could go before we're able to take these bastards down.
"I'm okay," I mouth, sort of falling in love with the way his eyes drift down to my mouth to read my lips.
Sadness fills every aspect of his facial features when his eyes lift back to mine. He shakes his head slightly, mouthing back, "I'm not."
I swallow against the lump forming in my throat, but it does nothing to dislodge the damn thing.
His hand slides down my arm, fingers entwining with mine, and when he gives me a little tug, I'm like a puppy on a leash, following him across the room toward the bathroom.
Although we could probably whisper in here and not be heard, neither of us chooses to speak.
I lift my arms over my head when Zeus grabs the hem of my shirt, smiling at his sigh of contentment as he drops it to the floor, his hands immediately running the length of my torso. My stomach muscles jump and flex under his attention, as if they're dancing and performing just for him.
When his fingers work to open my belt and zipper, I press my forehead against his, both of us watching his hands work. I work to kick off my boots, falling in love with his laughter when he chuckles as I almost lose my balance.
His strong hands steady me, the warmth of them on my hips almost distracting enough to make me forget my task. Each boot thuds to the floor, the sound tangled with our ragged breaths as his thumbs hook into the waistline of my boxer briefs. He shifts the fabric down, no hesitation in his movements, as if he's been undressing me for a lifetime, his touch no less excited than the last time.
A low rumble of approval escapes his throat when my erection springs free, and anticipation fills every cell in my body as he lowers to a squat, his hand pulling my clothes down as he does so.
Placing my hands on his shoulders, I use him for balance as I shift from one foot to the other so he can pull off my jeans, underwear, and socks.
The top of my head nearly shoots off when he leans in, the warmth of his mouth covering the head of my cock. My fingers curl into his flesh, and I wouldn't be surprised if marks are left behind from how hard I grip him.
Cold air meets the wet tip of my cock as he pulls his mouth free, and as much as I loved his chuckle earlier, a hint of desperation and irritation swells inside of me as he laughs when I whimper and push my hips further, chasing that need and the warmth of his mouth.
The irritability I was feeling quickly fades when he stands, a wide smile on his handsome face. I press my hand to his cheek, the softness of his beard tangling with my other senses.
As if giving me a command, he raises his arms over his head, and since I'm a quick learner, I don't hesitate to work his shirt over his head, my next movement heading for his belt much the same way he did mine.
The sound of his zipper echoes around us, and I do my best to push away the thought that he could put a stop to this at any moment. An urgency I can't seem to control takes over, and with much less finesse than he had, I shove his jeans and boxers down in one rough moment.