The Ghost of Mistletoe Lock by Amy Rae Durreson

Author:Amy Rae Durreson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight: Ryan

IT FELT like a slap in the face, and he’d had enough of those in his life.

One moment he’d been losing himself in this man who made him shameless and hotter than anyone had before. Then Isaac was drawing back and calling him names.

What the hell?

It wasn’t that Isaac didn’t want him, he was sure. He was hard and shaking under Ryan, and his kisses had been wild and hungry right up until he’d stopped.

Stopped to think about what he was doing, clearly, and taken a good look at who he was rutting against.

He’d pushed the man, even when he tried to resist, and Isaac had given in, but Ryan had forced the issue. He’d just wanted this man so much he’d gladly thrown away his dignity.

It was possible to physically react to someone you despised. He’d been there himself, more than once, and it was one of his greatest regrets that he hadn’t walked away from the situation either time.

Why would this man, with his perfect house and dream job and kind, kind heart want someone needy and slutty and, yes, stupid enough to go walking down a dark country path when it was snowing. This man wasn’t going to tell him to fuck off directly, but he could take the hint.

He scrambled off the sofa, backing away hurriedly. “Yeah, you’re right. I should’ve known better and I should be going, shouldn’t I? Let me get my own clothes back on, and I’ll get out of your way—”

“Your clothes are still soaking,” Isaac said, frowning at him. “Come on, sit down. You don’t need to go anywhere.”

“Damn. Right, then is it okay if I keep your clothes until I get home? I’ll get them back to you, I swear. I’ll post them, even—except I don’t know the address. Shit, where am I?”

Isaac approached him, hands held out. “Mistletoe Lock. We’re about three miles out of town. And I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I meant, are you okay?”

“I just need to find my shoes.”

“Ryan. You’re out here in the middle of the night, when you should be sleeping somewhere warm. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

Ah, pity. Even better. “I’m fine.”

Isaac crossed his arms. “People who say that usually aren’t.”

“And you’re a bloody expert, are you?” People always seemed to have an opinion on how he should live his life. They didn’t seem to realize that he’d been on his own long enough to learn how to cope.

“Let me help. Do you have somewhere to go?”

The hell? “I’m not fucking homeless.” He’d come close once or twice, but he’d always managed to keep a roof over his head. It was a point of pride.

“That wasn’t what—” Isaac took a slow deliberate breath and held his hands up. “I’ll drive you home if you want, but you are welcome to stay here as long as you want. I can make a bed up on the sofa.”

Because that was flattering from the man whose leg he’d been humping five minutes ago.

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