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)
Rayne skipped the coffee and poured himself a glass of orange juice from one of the to-go cartons, then went toward the back of the house in search of his desire. The patio doors were already open, and the moment Rayne stepped outside, he felt as if he’d been transported to another country. He didn’t believe he was in Norfolk, Virginia, anymore.
“This is unbelievable,” Rayne gasped, gazing up at the blossoming orange and lemon trees. No wonder Mike’s house was boring inside—all of the flair and personality, everything that screamed Mike, was outside.
It felt like summer was trying to come early as Rayne tilted his head back and let the sun’s rays beat on his face and chest. The scent of pine, mulch, and roses made his head fuzzy as he stepped onto the fresh-mowed grass and dug his toes into the softness.
“Morning, sleepyhead.” Mike was standing there in a pair of grass-stained jeans and a worn Coors Light T-shirt, watching him.
“I haven’t slept that good in months.” Rayne’s cheeks were warm, but it wasn’t from the sun.
Mike walked toward him. The veins in his forearms looked more prominent, and his sweat-dampened skin was tanned darker than his normal. He removed his thick work gloves and tossed them to the ground, a feral glint gleaming in his dark eyes. Rayne licked his lips, his dick getting harder from just a look. Mike’s gaze traveled over Rayne’s chest, then down his abdomen, causing his body to heat from the inside out. Mike stopped close enough that Rayne could smell his sweat and the robust scent of coffee on his breath.
“Damn.” Mike ran his knuckles over the light brown hairs below Rayne’s navel. His eyes were hooded, and his voice was devilishly low when he asked, “Did you wear this sexy shit for me?”
Rayne tongued his cheek. “Sexy shit.”
“Yeah,” Mike said, wielding a seductive grin. “What is that… linen?”
Rayne quirked a brow. Excuse me? “No… I do not wear linen. This is Loro Piana mulberry silk. I got it from—” Rayne snapped his mouth shut. He sounded like a pretentious asshole. What did a man like Mike care about a men’s boutique in Paris? He opened his mouth again, but words failed him.
Mike moaned low and deep. “Silk, huh?”
“Yeah.” Rayne nibbled on his bottom lip until Mike cupped his chin and tilted his head upward to meet his mouth. His lips were warm and sun-kissed, and Rayne dipped his tongue in first for a taste.
The kiss went from zero to one hundred fast as Rayne got lost in the oasis and the environment, standing barefoot on the noon grass as butterflies fluttered around a nearby pot of marigolds. He closed his eyes to the sound of birds chirping by a feeder hanging from the low branch of a blooming magnolia tree, and somewhere was the sound of trickling water.
Mike walked them backward until Rayne’s back was pressed against the wide base of a tree. He could feel the hard wood through his flimsy “sexy shit” shirt when he arched to get closer to Mike’s pelvis.
“You taste sweet,” Mike rumbled, then sucked hard on Rayne’s bottom lip.
“Mmm,” Rayne managed. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
Mike’s breath was ragged as he dragged his nose across Rayne’s cheek and behind his ear, the soft-spoken words pulsing like shiatsu balls beneath Mike’s sack. “I’ll never get any work done with you out here.”
“Why?”
Mike released a hushed scoff against his mouth. “Because I won’t be able to keep my hands off you… and I think you know that,” he said, circling Rayne’s hard nipple with the pad of his thumb.
Fuck. Yes. Rayne shuddered. “Mike.”
“See? And I have a lot to get done if I want you to myself tonight.”
“Then let me help.” Rayne saw the shock register on Mike’s face before he could hide it. “And don’t look at me like that.”
Mike gazed at him with a lopsided smile tilting his lips. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you get a little dirty.”
“Show me,” Rayne whispered as he ground himself against Mike’s hard thigh.
Mike spun them in one swift move and took Rayne down to the ground, settling between his spread thighs. He didn’t care how much his shirt cost; he wanted Mike to sully him, to put his rough hands that’d just been digging up soil all over his bare chest. Things were getting hot, and Rayne was about to tug at the hem of Mike’s shirt when someone pounded on the fence door like they were trying to burst through it—multiple someones.
Rayne swiveled his head around to see who or what it was, his heartbeat getting faster. “What is that, Mike?”
“Sounds like frantic knocking,” Mike cupped Rayne’s cheek and turned his head back so they could keep kissing. “Ignore it and it’ll stop.”
The knocking got harder, and Rayne’s eyes got wider. “Mike.”