More, Sloan Parker [guided reading books TXT] 📗

“You weren't seeing so clearly last night.” He stared at me, his arms still crossed, his body still. “After he told me about that fucker, I noticed a difference in him. He seemed more connected to us, more relaxed, more open, both in and out of bed.” Richard drummed his fingers on his biceps, the muscle in a state of permanent flex. “I won't let you push him away from us.”

“What the hell do you think I've done wrong?”

“You can't just let him fuck you and make all the bad shit disappear.”

“Really?”

He surged forward. His hands smacked the tabletop. “No, you can't.”

I shook my head. “He's up there sleeping. He looks pretty blissed out to me.”

“And in an hour, when you and I are off to work and he wakes up alone, what then? I don't think he'll be feeling all that blissed out. He'll be feeling like shit, and he won't know what to do about it. If we'd talked last night, maybe he could have gotten past it, thought about his next step while we were there to listen and support him, remind him how good he is. Now, today, he'll sit here feeling like a loser, a failure.” Richard stood and scooped up his empty cup. He dropped it into the sink. I heard the glass crack on contact. He didn't flinch. “I hope you have a good day, Luke.” He walked out. The front door opened and slammed shut.

Shit. Not likely.

Sure enough, every time I turned around, I pictured Matthew curled up on the couch, flipping through TV channels, not knowing what else to do. By the end of the day, I seriously considered going home and sitting on him until he talked about it— whether I wanted to hear it or not.

Though I was pretty sure I did want to hear it. I sat in the hallway for over an hour the night before trying to figure out how to get him to talk to me. I'd wanted to know what was wrong. I'd wanted to be there for him.

Richard was right. We should have waited and listened.

That meant I had making up to do— with both men.

Chapter Twenty-five

When I finally made it home, I dashed for the kitchen. I longed to see Matthew bounce around the room as he made dinner, his iPod on his belt, a smile on his face.

I wasn't awarded that vision.

The room was dark. The aroma of spices and fresh herbs didn't linger in the air. Pots and pans didn't cover the stovetop. I couldn't find one hint he'd even been in the room. Richard's broken coffee cup still lay in the sink.

I sank into a chair.

Solid footsteps sounded behind me.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“He left a note. He went to his mom's for dinner.” Richard sat beside me. He reached out and took my hand in his. “I was angry, but I didn't handle it right.”

“You wanted to make sure he'd be okay. You care about him. I get that.”

“I care about you too.”

“I know. I care about you. And him.”

Richard caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. “I know that's hard for you to say. I know it isn't something you want to feel, but— ”

“No, it is. At first, it wasn't. Not at all. But now... I wanted him to talk to me last night. I just couldn't leave him alone. I had to do something.”

He kissed me. Strong coffee flavored his mouth. He usually didn't drink more than a cup or two in the morning. He probably needed the caffeine. His side of the bed had barely looked slept in.

The heat of his strong body and the passion of the kiss made me dizzy fast, made the familiar tightness in my pants return. He could get me hard no matter what else I felt.

I'd get the man off and send him to bed. It was the least I could do.

Richard jerked back. “I want you both to move in with me, permanently.”

It took a moment for my swimming head to shake off the desire. “Stay?”

“Stay. Indefinitely. Stop pretending you'll be looking for an apartment at some point. Move all your stuff here. No talk of this place as mine anymore. It'll be ours.”

I didn't say anything.

“I know this is a huge thing for you.”

I stared at my hands. No tensing. No freaking. No desire to run. “Okay.”

“What?”

I looked up at him. Hopeful green eyes gazed back at me.

“It may not seem like it, but I'm trying. I want to stay here. I want to make this work.” I want to believe nothing will make me leave. Not me. Not my father.

Richard flung himself at me. The force sent me sailing over the side of the chair. I landed on my back with him on top of me.

“Oh God. Luke, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Ow. I think so.” I laughed and rubbed the back of my head.

His fingers explored my scalp.

I brushed his hands away. “I'm fine.”

He smiled at me, and his lips covered mine again. He rolled us around on the floor, tickling my sides. I laughed more, letting the ease and comfort wash over me.

I attempted a dodge of his movements. My hips and ass wiggled, but his solid body pinned me in place. He unbuttoned the top of my pants and slid a hand in. I was still laughing as he grasped my dick.

He didn't relent with his hand or his mouth. I thrashed my hips into his touch. He knew how to work me with his big fist. I could smell my own need.

My hands grazed his bulge as I went for his pants, and he groaned. I lowered the zipper, pushed down his underwear, and released the red, swollen prick. As it always did, his cock firmed more with my touch. I considered taking him in my mouth, but his next words stopped me in my tracks.

“God, Luke. I need to fuck you.”

I stilled. “Maybe we should leave