Wait Until Dawn by Bailey Bradford (book club suggestions .txt) 📕

to the still billowing car. “Though I have to say, I don’t think there’s much hope we can do anything for this cute little car right now ’cept maybe tow her.”

Rich glared at him for a moment then turned to press the button for the hood. Chris watched him closely and wondered once again what had happened to the man. The anger and scowls didn’t set naturally on Rich, and Chris would bet his beloved rig the man had once been a happy-go-lucky flirt.

“I think it overheated and the heads are cracked,” Rich muttered as Chris walked around to the front of the car.

Chris frowned at him. “You didn’t notice the temp gage or—” He shut up when Rich blushed even more and looked a hair past miserable.

“I was just…it’s been so long since I just…” Rich waved a hand and Chris waited for him to continue but he didn’t.

Chris was left to fill in the blanks himself. He couldn’t decide if it’d been ‘so long since’ Rich had taken a drive, or since he’d been happy. Chris wasn’t sure about the first, but the latter seemed to fit the man for some reason. God, Chris just wanted to scoop him up and hold him, which would definitely make Rich think he was crazy. “Looks like shit under here,” he called out then jumped when Rich’s shoulder brushed against the middle of his back.

“Figures,” Rich said sourly from beside Chris. “I’m supposed to be in McKinton in a few hours. I’d better call and tell them I’m going to be late before the sheriff sends out a freaking search party.”

Chris didn’t know who ‘them’ were, or why a sheriff would bother getting involved, but Rich sounded too miserable for words. After a quick calculation of miles between here and McKinton, Chris came to a decision. “C’mon, I’ll give you a lift to McKinton. Save you from being hunted down. You can call for a tow from the rig, or I have a friend who can pick your car up and fix it, then bring it to you wherever you’re at.” That would be him, but there was no need to freak out Rich with that info right now.

Rich gave him a long, considering look. “Why do you have that thing on your chin?”

Whether or not he accepts my help depends on the answer to that? Chris decided on the truth. “Because I like it, and it looks good with these—” He lifted his shirt and showed Rich his nipples, speared by two thick hoops. He tugged his shirt down then danced his fingers over his fly. “And with the piercings I have here.” Then he stuck his tongue out and wiggled the bar in the slick muscle, setting the ball to bobbing.

“Shit,” Rich mumbled, drawing the word out into two syllables. He swallowed noisily and his gaze darted from Chris’ tongue to his chin, to his nipples then down to his groin. He swallowed again and Chris could do nothing to stop his cock from swelling, which sucked as he’d tucked down and to the right this morning. His tight jeans were strangling his shaft, and it flat out hurt.

Chris shifted and figured what the hell. He popped the top button on his jeans and started to inch his hand down, intent on moving his cock to a more comfortable position.

Rich hissed and jerked his head back to glare at him. “What are you doing? Someone might drive by! You can’t pull that out here!”

“Calm down, sweetie,” Chris goaded, grinning when Rich’s pretty eyes bugged. “I’m just making some room since you got me all hot and bothered.”

Rich looked up at him, surprise evident in his wide eyes. “You’re—”

“Gay,” Chris finished. “Yup. Figured you must be too since you visually fondled me when I was walking up.”

A goldfish, that’s what Rich looks like, his mouth flapping open and shut like that. Chris found it strangely endearing and…his dick throbbed against the tight denim confine. Every time Rich’s mouth formed an ‘O’, Chris wanted to press his length into it. Whether Rich was ‘the one’ or not, Chris wanted him, plain and simple. Except maybe it was neither of those things, because he was thinking other thoughts besides ones of just getting off, and those other thoughts involved words like ‘commitment’ and ‘partner’.

“Sweetie?” Rich finally said, or squeaked, really, his voice several pitches higher than Chris would have believed possible.

“Well, sure,” Chris muttered as he struggled for an explanation. Telling the obviously highly strung man that Chris’ mom, a well-known—in her circle of like-minded believers, anyway—had foretold, albeit vaguely, of Chris finding the man he was meant to spend his life with, would probably just make the guy take off at running full tilt. Chris didn’t mind a chase, but he preferred one where his prey wasn’t terrified of being caught. “Don’t take it personally. It just sort of slipped out.” He’d never called any of his previous lovers by anything other than their name, but it didn’t seem beneficial to his cause to say so.

Rich gave him a disbelieving look then pointed one long finger at him. “I am anything but sweet. Don’t fucking do it again.”

Ah, a curse word to prove your un-sweetness. Got it. Chris shrugged. “I’ll try, but some habits are hard to break. Now, since I can’t fix this here for fear of shattering your delicate sensibilities, would you care to decide whether or not you’re going to let me give you a ride to McKinton?” If Rich said no, Chris would just have to sit here and wait with him until someone else rescued the man.

Rich’s shoulders drooped, and Chris was left trying to figure out if it was the idea of riding with him or of going to McKinton that seemed to stamp defeat onto the man. “What time is it?”

Chris frowned and glanced at his watch. “Eleven-thirty. Are you going to be late for something?” He could drive fast as long as they