Two Weeks and a Day (Finn's Pub Romance 2)

He shouts his release and I tumble over the edge with him, his name on my lips. I’m rocked by the speed and force of my climax, the sight of my come on Miller’s body only making it more intense.

It isn’t until I come back down to earth that I realize something’s wrong. “Miller?”

He slips out from underneath me, turning his back to tug up his pants. I sit up in concern. “Miller, talk to me.”

“Can we not?” His voice is soft and a little distant. “I mean, we need to, but can it wait? Fred’s coming over for dinner tonight and I need to clean up and check the deck and—”

I reach for his arm and he flinches. Fuck. “Shit, Miller. Did I screw up here?”

“It’s new. I wasn’t expecting…but we’re good. I swear we’re good. I just want to talk about it later.”

I don’t know what to do, but since I’ve made a mess of things again, I don’t see another option. “Whatever you want. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

He nods and moves away, stopping at the bedroom door. “Don’t forget the ice after your shower. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Royal is right. I can fuck, but I have no idea what I’m doing in the romance department.

Why did I push him so hard when I knew he had no experience?

You weren’t thinking. You were feeling.

Feeling selfish.

Now I feel like an ass, and all I can think about it how much easier it would have been to keep that slate clean for a little while longer.

But there’s no going back now and I don’t want to. I just need to come at this in a different way. A different, less aggressive way that doesn’t send him running again.

Here’s hoping he gives me the chance.

Chapter Five

Sixty-Minute Man

Miller

Help!

I’m trapped in a locked room and this weekend is trying to kill me.

At the very least it might end up giving me a stroke. A man can only take so many shocks to his system before that system decides everything is crazy and upside down and a reboot might be the only way to straighten that shit out.

Let’s recap while everyone’s distracted with their Revolutionary War-based Escape Room puzzles, shall we?

I went out to a pub to get Austen and Royal together. That might have been my first mistake. I didn’t think it through. Putting two outgoing, irritatingly cheerful and unceasingly energetic people in the same room to meet, possibly date and potentially fall in love is something I should have considered more carefully.

I mean, it’s working, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing. Individually they’re a force of nature. As a team they might be unstoppable.

As if that’s not enough, my straight friend—drunk at the time—gave me the best orgasm of my life before passing out. I’m a grown man so I handled it, but then he followed it up with a sneak attack the next day while I was helping him recover from a neck injury, blowing my mind again.

“This is how it’s going to be when I fuck you.”

I know I said earlier my life was not a porno, but maybe I spoke too soon because who says something like that?

Brendan Kinkaid.

And I’ll be damned if his words didn’t turn me into some kind of sex-starved animal mid-mating-season.

I admit, I was already turned on from that massage. I felt bad that he’d hurt himself while working on my deck, but I wasn’t mad that it had given me an excuse to touch him.

I wasn’t expecting him to like it that much. I definitely wasn’t expecting him to tell me that he wanted to talk about what happened the night before. That he not only remembered it, but he wanted a repeat.

Twice. It’s happened twice.

The first time, he fell asleep. The second time? He stayed away and I ran like a scared little virgin on his wedding night.

It’s embarrassing, but we all know that’s exactly what I did.

I’m used to his flirty banter and ass slapping. Used to wanting to touch him every time he’s in the room while he remains oblivious. But the focus of this highly sexual man directed at me? Wanting me?

I wasn’t ready for that, no matter how many times I’ve imagined it.

So yes, I used Fred and the dog and the deck to avoid being alone with him for the rest of the evening. Yes, I went to bed and spent the entire night trying to resist jerking off to the memory of what he’d done to me hours before.

Note, I said trying.

And yes, I agreed to the Austen do-over date because I’d promised her, and I thought it would give me a little more time to think. To keep my distance.

I didn’t know my dear friend would trap the four of us in a tiny fucking room filled with riddles and padlocks with nothing to do for an entire hour but work in close proximity if we wanted to escape this room.