Page 159 of Snap Shot

“I—can't” —he pants, hoarse and ragged— “it's No Nut November.”

Retreating with a cartoonish pop, I smirk. “And?”

“And I've got fiftykon the line.” His head writhes against the couch cushion. “Stupid,” he mutters under his breath.

“You bet fiftythousanddollars that you wouldn't comeallmonth?”

“Not just me—the boys are in on it, too. The whole team's raising money for prostate cancer research.” One of his hands harshly runs over his face, partially masking his exasperation.

Something inside me rebels. A particularly filthy thought takes root. I dampen the seam of my mouth in prep, twisting my hands around his still-hard shaft. “Don't be a cheapskate, Radek.”

He shudders and peeks through his fingers. “Indi.”

“It's for a good cause.” My lips pucker to blow a cool breath onto the head of his dick.

Landon's body goes taut, eyes wide once more. “We can't have people thinking you're stingy.”

I bring his hand to my throat. He follows my cue and latches on, thumb pressing into my pulse, grip threatening to strip me of air.

“Goddamn, I love seeing you like this.” His jaw ripples with a tick. “Fucking take me.”

I gag on him three times before he finishes with an animalistic groan, his release streaming down and providing an intoxicating sense of satisfaction.

Sweat dots the long stubble of his mustache. It tickles my lips when I rise to kiss that perfect corner of his mouth again. His grasp on my neck tightens, keeping me hovering over him. “You've ruined me.”

I putter, brushing off the comment with a swat to the chest. “Fiftykis a drop in the bucket for you, Mr. Eight Figures.”

“That's not what I meant.”

An immovable lump forms and I try my best to swallow it down. It doesn't budge. The way his thumb strokes the delicate skin on my throat has me melting. His mouth readies to say something. I wait and pace my excited breaths, but the moment fades quicker than I expect. I don't want it to end. The moment, I mean. I want to be close to him forever, his hands on me and mine on his heart. But Landon's post-orgasm dazed expression is clouded with another emotion I can't place. Warning sirens go off in my head, but I silence them.

“I have a 5 a.m. flight tomorrow.”

—————

As if I'm not good enough at hurting my own feelings, Landon doesn't text me back forthreedays after landing in L.A. I'm starting to think he's either been kidnapped or somehow got sucked into a heist. Maybe he charmed the hell out of the badass matriarch secretly running the whole crime organization and now they're in love. Damn, I've been reading too many of those mafia romances before bed.

Focusing at work is impossible. My mind trudges through the rabbit hole of doubt and fear as Bea drones on in the background. “…I've got the meeting all squared away. The judge signed the motion with his butthole…”

Butthole?

I blink twice. “Excuse me?”

Bea shoots me a knowing smile. “And here I thought you weren't paying attention.” She puts her pen down and folds her hands over one another. “What's up?”

“What do you mean?”

Her head tilts to the side. “Lay it on me. You're so spacey this week. I'm not ready to enter the alternate universe where I'm the more focused one.”

I puff my cheeks and drop my head forward in resignation. “Fine. Gym Guy ghosted me.”

“Ah.”

“It's making me crazy.”

“Mmhm, mmhm.” She taps her lips with a finger.

“It’s weird not hearing from him.”

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