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)
“Don’t ever, ever, scare me like that again.” Mike hated that it sounded more like a plea than a demand. “I’m never fuckin’ scared, Rayne. But I was ton—” Mike released a long, embarrassing groan as Rayne kneaded at the built-up tension between his shoulder blades.
“Never again,” were Rayne’s final words before he kissed Mike into oblivion, his hands still working wonders on his upper body. God, it was so damn good. It was as if Rayne knew just where to rub him to make him moan the loudest. “Come on.”
Rayne took Mike’s hand and led him to his room and nodded for him to get in the bed. The burgundy sheets were a rumpled mess, but that was irrelevant. Mike lay down, his eyes already drifting. He could barely hold his head up, and every second was a struggle to keep his eyelids open. Rayne quickly removed his jeans and T-shirt and climbed in behind him, pressing his hot chest to Mike’s back. He could feel Rayne’s hardness against his ass, and his own dick began to throb and pulse with excitement, seeming to like Rayne being right there. Rayne applied more pressure and kneaded his aching shoulders in between the passionate kisses along his spine. Mike was drifting fast into an unconscious bliss. Rayne dug into a particularly sensitive knot, and Mike let him know. As if he could’ve stopped the deep groan if he’d tried. The massage and Rayne’s hips took on a rhythm that caused Mike to rock and sway with it. His eyes rolled in their sockets when Rayne squeezed his ass and languidly thrust against him.
Well, that was new. Mike liked the feel of Rayne back there, doing what he was doing. It felt right… perfect. He thought about asking for more, but he wasn’t able to form intelligible sentences at the moment. His mouth would only release a grunt or a moan anytime his lips parted.
“That’s it,” Rayne coaxed, gentling his touching to a soothing, more alluring rub. “Relax.”
“Rayne.” Mike was almost asleep, but he didn’t want to miss a second of the amazing attention. He’d never had a partner who cared if he was upset, who took the time and attention to calm him or ever came close to succeeding in talking him down. His previous lovers would call him bullheaded and hot-tempered—hell, even Slick would walk away and give Mike space when he was mad. But Rayne… he wasn’t afraid. He continued to slowly rock his hips against him, lulling Mike toward slumber like a goddamn baby. His voice was husky and filled with lust when he whispered against the shell of Mike’s ear, “Sleep.”
The next thing he remembered was waking up to the sun shining through the skylight in his bedroom. Rayne wasn’t in bed with him, but he smelled coffee brewing downstairs. He sat up and rubbed his neck, expecting to feel the same soreness that he did every morning, but this time… it felt different. It was gone. Mike rotated his head from side to side. What the fuck? There was no pain. None.
Mike was about to call Rayne’s name when he looked back at the note left on the other pillow along with the rare… extremely expensive flower from his exotic garden that was never supposed to be picked.
Goddamnit!
The note said Rayne had to go by Edison’s house for something, and then he was going to the fitness center for yoga. Shit. Mike leapt out of bed and grabbed his cell phone. He had to call his horticulturist for an emergency appointment. He appreciated the fuck out of the gesture, but Mike was going to have to give Rayne a lesson about his garden and explain that he was never to cut or pick anything from that particular side of the yard.
Chapter Forty-two
Mike
Mike had a large cup of coffee, bypassing breakfast like he usually did, and stepped out the patio door into his playground. He had to wait on Manny and Franklin, his horticulturist, before he could work on the Kadupul plant that Rayne had violated. Mike chuckled when he realized he wasn’t even mad about it, which was not like him. He had been surprised, not angry, to see that priceless flower butchered and snatched away from its home to die a slow death on his bed beside him.
Mike was trimming the hedges along his fence when he got a notification that his front-door camera had been triggered. A few moments later, he heard a forceful knock at his back gate that wasn’t either of his sons. He knew their knock well.
Mike dropped his pruning shears and picked up the shovel when his gate was pushed open and two hulking beasts dressed in black jeans and tight T-shirts walked in as if they had an invitation. Mike got a good look at the one in back, taking up point, and realized who it was. No wonder. These men didn’t need to be invited in—power didn’t have to ask permission for anything.