Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Mike hurried to wrap up his transaction. “Edison, when you come to the trailer on Monday, just tell him that your secretary brought you the books she had, all right? Don’t bring ’em in a new bag or anything. Make them look used.”
“Why do you want me to come to the trail—” Edison slammed a hand over his mouth. “Holy moly.”
Mike and Bishop shook their heads as Edison finally seemed to catch up to what was happening, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.
“You… this is all for… are you doing this for Rayne, Mike?”
Mike sighed. “Damn, Edison, you’re lucky God gave you a phat ass because he sure as shit shorted you with brai—”
“Mike!” Bishop barked. “I’ll shatter your fuckin’ jaw if you finish that sentence.”
“Hey! What’s going on in there? And what’s taking so long with the cake?” Trent yelled, but no one answered.
Mike needed to wrap this shit up. “Just make it believable, Edison. Okay? I don’t think Rayne likes handouts.”
Edison had the cheesiest grin on his face that made Mike curse under his breath. “Don’t,” he muttered as Edison blushed harder.
“I just think it’s amazing. I didn’t know you were… that you…” Edison didn’t seem to know what label to give Mike, which was good because he never liked them anyway. He was just him.
“Yeah…” Bishop sneered. “I didn’t know either.”
“B,” Mike warned.
Bishop moved Edison aside and got in Mike’s face, speaking in a hushed growl. “Dad, what the hell are you doing? How the fuck old is he? You know what, it doesn’t matter. He’s a damn sex addict. What are you thinking?”
“Bishop. What are you saying?” Edison glared. “Rayne seems like a really nice guy.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t.”
Mike eased Edison to the side as the muscles in his back tightened with frustration, and his tension soared. He stood chest to chest with his son, butting their foreheads together. They were so evenly matched that it always made Edison antsy when they did their posturing thing, not sure who was going to get thrown into a headlock or bodychecked first. But Edison didn’t have to worry. Mike was about to make this lesson short and sweet.
He jabbed his pointer finger into Bishop’s right pec. “I didn’t teach you to judge people, B. Rayne’s made some bad choices, but he’s trying to turn his life around. You of all people should understand that,” Mike berated him, his teeth clenched tight to keep his voice low. He stared his son down until he made him look away.
Bishop looked back at him, his anger resurfacing as he stabbed Mike in his own chest just as forcefully as he’d done him. “I’m not judging him. I’m fuckin’ questioning you. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were bi?”
Chapter Thirteen
Rayne
Mike was in the kitchen talking quietly with Bishop and Edison, so Rayne didn’t think it was a good idea to interrupt. Chelsea got up and took a call in the back room and then had to hurry and leave because of some big emergency at work. She asked Rayne to apologize to Edison for her rudeness and also to ask him for a rain check on her dessert. So that meant he had to sit alone in the living room with the lovebirds as they exchanged hot jeers and cute shoves while they battled each other on the video game.
Instead of watching, Rayne figured he’d get a start on his new book, but he was having a hard time getting into it. Not when he kept feeling sporadic vibrations in his chest from the bass in Mike’s voice that carried to him from around the corner. Rayne couldn’t make out the words, but he gathered Mike was discussing something intense by the way his voice would tighten as it rose a few octaves.
Rayne hadn’t read a single word as he stared blankly at the page, his mind replaying the look Mike gave him before he went around Bishop and into the kitchen. Damn, he was sexy and hot in a dangerous sort of way. The complete opposite of the clean-cut, eager-to-please business moguls Rayne was used to. Though Mike wore a perpetual frown and cursed like a truck driver with road rage, Rayne liked the way he made him feel when he was close to him.
Normal. And in a bit of trouble.
Rayne almost moaned when his cock filled in his tight jeans, pressing excitedly against the restriction. Oh god. He closed his eyes and exhaled a long breath, trying to settle himself. Though he hadn’t had many instances during his recovery where he had to struggle this hard with lust—because no one had hit that button inside of him—he still knew what he was supposed to do when he was feeling triggered. Like any addict, Rayne had tools to use and a place to go for support. He checked his watch, then tried to calculate how long it would take him to get to St. Mary’s eight o’clock meeting on the bus. If he skipped dessert too, he could make it.