The Contractor (Red’s Tavern #8) Read Online Raleigh Ruebins

Categories Genre: M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Red's Tavern Series by Raleigh Ruebins
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74298 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
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“Chug it,” he said.

He reached in the liquor cabinet for my bottle of silver Cuervo and grabbed a short glass, pouring a little.

“Wait a minute. I just get water while you get to have a shot of tequila?”

A sly grin appeared on his face. “We’re home now. I’m not the one stumbling around, and one shot isn’t going to ruin me for the plane tomorrow.”

He neatly tossed back the shot, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. Tris had taken off his jacket and even though he’d looked ridiculously hot in it, I almost wished he would put it back on. Now he was just wearing the soft old band T-shirt, and I could see his arms on display, and for fuck’s sake, I just wanted those arms around me.

“You’re impossible,” I said, shaking my head before chugging the whole glass of ice-cold water, just as he’d instructed. “Now give me another shot, too.”

He gave me a look. “You know you don’t need that.”

“You act like I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

“You act like I’ve never taken care of your ass, countless mornings when you went too hard the night before,” he said, lifting an eyebrow at me. “I’m going to be right here, pushing water on you and with ibuprofen next to the bed tomorrow morning, and you know it.”

“Yeah.”

“Because I do it all of the time,” he said.

“You do.”

“Now, can I talk to you about that kiss, or are you going to go all wobbly again?”

My cock perked up again and I shifted on my feet, hoping it wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “I’m having water. And you can talk about anything you want.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that kiss,” he said. “I know this is a dumb question, but all my brain has been able to think about is wondering if that’s how it always feels to kiss a guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he said, cocking his head to one side. “I would have thought it would be different. Less soft and sexy than kissing a woman.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I just have soft lips.” It was another tossed-out comment that was supposed to sound like a joke, but when it came out, it almost felt… flirty.

Like I was fucking flirting.

With my best friend.

He was looking at my mouth again, and it erased any chance at rational thought I had left within me. He took a step closer, leaning in toward me, closing the distance between us.

“I want to try again, Blue,” he said, his voice low. “Is that okay?”

I was holding my breath. I swallowed hard, so aware of how close he was. “It was a drunken joke, Tris. You were… pretending.”

“Well I’m sure as shit not drunk now,” he said, his eyes focused on my mouth. I could see his lashes when he was this close, and somehow he was even more beautiful from here. “But I won’t if you’re not cool with it.”

My heart was pounding. And since I was drunk, I just said exactly what was on my mind. “Tristan, I’d be cool with you kissing me whenever the fuck you want, anywhere you want.”

It was all the confirmation he needed. A split second later his lips met mine again. The cold laminate counter pressed up against my ass as Tris gently pushed me back into it with the bulk of his body, but I could have been pressing up against a block of ice, for all I cared. This was everything I wanted.

It was different than last time, and he was exploratory and slow. He took his time, like he was trying to prove his theory, seeing if kissing me was what he remembered.

And just like the last time he’d kissed me, some part of my mind felt like I should stop him, like I knew I was bound to disappoint him or gross him out. He was straight. There was no chance he could be enjoying it as much as I was. But he sure as hell seemed plenty curious.

I wasn’t strong enough to stop him by a mile. I was glued to him like a magnet, melting into the soft warmth of his lips like I was already completely addicted to it.

“Yeah,” he said a moment later, pulling back just an inch, his lips still slick “Definitely soft lips. It’s weird kissing and feeling scruff, though.”

“You don’t like my beard, huh?” I mumbled.

“I said weird, I didn’t say bad,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss right onto my beard. Fuck. “It’s softer than I would have expected, too,” he murmured.

Somehow, him kissing up against my cheek and my beard—and now down onto my neck—felt just as intimate as when he’d been kissing my lips. I knew I’d do anything for this. Tristan had always had power over me, after all, in a way that no one else ever had. I was fiercely independent, but he was the only person who could knock me off my axis, who could make me give up control. Because I trusted him, with every bone in my body.



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