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“I hate that I can’t touch you in public,” Jonah says quietly.
“I know.” I kiss his back, and he lifts off me, my dick slipping out of him as he does. “But we have to be careful. It’s only two more months until graduation and we can leave.” Jonah lays down on the bed looking up at me. “If I lose you, I will die or go to prison. There’s nothing else for me.”
I get up and turn the light off, then crawl back on the bed, hooking my leg over one of his and spreading my body out over his chest.
“I love you, Bible Boy,” I say against his chest.
He sucks in a deep breath, then relaxes. “I love you too, jerk.”
* * *
If you would like to read Roman and Jonah’s full story, you can find Bully King: An MM Bully Romance here: https://books2read.com/u/49VZjk
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andi Jaxon and is one of the most random people you will probably ever come in contact with. Her favorite accessory is rainbows (she has glasses, shoes, wardrobe, and accessories), big hoop earrings, and fake eyelashes (she only recently learned how to put them on). She always has coffee on hand so she can try to keep up with the three minions she’s created.
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www.andijaxon.com
SAY MY NAME
ASHLEY JAMES
1
TRAVIS BARNES
They say everything happens for a reason. That you’re never given more than you can handle. To trust the process. Well, I don’t know who‘they’are, but disrespectfully, they can go fuck themselves.
Without lube.
Five years. Actually, five years and four months, to be exact.
That’s how long I’ve spent wasting my time on someone who, at one point, I thought I’d spend my life with. And by at one point, I mean, up until three days ago. Nathaniel Perry came gliding into my life on his magic carpet of lies and deceit during our senior year of college. One public speaking class and several late nights later, he had weaved his way into my heart, holding on for dear life with his promises of a future I so desperately craved. That, and his magical tongue. He knew all the right things to say to win me over. Knew all my insecurities and how to manipulate me using them.
We moved fast; always spending the night at the other’s house, weekends frequently enjoyed on the lake or in the mountains, hikes at sunrise, and getting drunk under the stars while talking about the future. When graduation came, it was a no-brainer. We combined our savings for an apartment, taking that next step in our relationship without hesitation. The mundane, everyday tasks became thrilling; grocery shopping together, adopting a dog and bringing her on walks every morning and night, holidays with each other’s families.
The first time we said I love you was shortly after we moved in together. Neither of us cooked. We were freshly graduated twenty-three-year-old guys who had spent the last four years drinking their body weight in cheap beer and surviving off Top Ramen and sub sandwiches. We wanted to celebrate getting our new place, so we decided to try our hand at cooking an extravagant dinner. The stove caught on fire, the sprinklers in the entire complex turned on, and the fire department was called. It was a disaster.
We ended up getting takeout, grabbed a six-pack of beer from the convenience store, and laid blankets and pillows out on our teeny-tiny back deck, eating and drinking while searching for the Big Dipper and Orion’s Belt. Despite the chaos of what had just happened, nothing had ever felt more perfect. The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even process what I was saying, and he said them back like he meant them.
And for years, I believed him.For years, I had blinders on, desperately needing and wanting a love I thought he wanted to give me.
After picking the wrong guy over and over again all throughout high school and college, being second best or someone’s just for tonight, finally finding someone who pickedmeand said all the right things felt like a breath of fresh air. It felt right. So right, in fact, that I bought a ring a few weeks ago with what little money I had saved from my marketing job, and planned to surprise him with a special evening full of good food, expensive wine, and me down on one knee at the end of the night… for more reasons than one, if I had my way.
Three days ago, Nathaniel was supposed to be in an important meeting at work that would take him well into the evening, so I got off work early and headed home to set up the house—because we just bought a house together six months ago. Except when I got home, the front door was unlocked. Imagine my surprise when I run through the house thinking someone had broken in, only to find my boyfriend—the same man I was hoping would become myfiancéthat same night—bent overourbed, getting railed by some strange fucking man I’d never seen in my life.
The look of shock and immediate shame that splashed Nathaniel’s face, paired with the smug, arrogant air this strange man had about him while they came simultaneously with their eyes on me, was enough to make me see red.
Blood red.
I’ve never been much of a violent person. I’m the peace maker. The people pleaser. But when I took in the scene before me, something came over me. Something feral. I picked up the closest thing near me—a fucking antique lamp Nathaniel’s grandma gave us—and threw it at them. Somehow, it missed Nathaniel entirely, but itdidleave a pretty gnarly gash on the stranger’s head.
Not that I stayed to examine it.
Grabbing Nova, our golden retriever, and packing a quick bag of necessities, I left that house quicker than a crackhead running from the cops. Thank God my best friend from college, Xander, lived a few minutes into town and let me crash at his place. Which is where I’ve been since.
