Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend, #4)

by Eden Finley

I huff a laugh. “You’ll soon learn there are plenty more books in the library.” He narrows his eyes. “Isn’t the saying there’s plenty more fish in the sea?” “I don’t like that analogy. Like, if you go fishing and you catch a fish, you don’t say ‘I think this will taste gross’ and throw it back. Doesn’t that phrase actually mean that you take the fish home, cook it, eat it, think it’s gross, and then throw it out? So, really, that’s like saying if it doesn’t work out with someone you should kill them. Homicide is not sexy. Books, on the other hand … you borrow from a library until you find the book you love, and then you keep it. The library won’t let you borrow more books until you return it, but you never return it because you’ll never need any other book.” Miller looks confused. “You’re fucked up.” I grin. “Thanks.” “It actually means if a fish gets away there’s plenty more to catch.”

He slaps my ass in the way we’re allowed to as athletes. Smacking asses while doing something manly—the straight guy’s excuse to touch some man buns.

“A lot of people do something because they think it’s the norm. It’s staying true to yourself when you don’t meet social expectations that’s hard.”

I can do this. It’s just sucking a dick. I’ve received countless blowjobs before, and no one ever choked to death, so it can’t be that hard. Hmm, maybe I should start small. Like a handjob. Maybe you should wake him up first before you do anything. Oh, right. That too.

“I wasn’t that drunk.” “Dude, you called Jackson your pet unicorn.” I laugh. “He is my unicorn. Without him, we so would’ve lost the game last night.” “You threw imaginary glitter at him and yelled ‘Be majestic, bitch!’”

“And I want to taste you,” I whisper. Miller locks eyes with me and nods. Leaning in, he lifts his head until our lips are almost touching. “Explore me. Use me. Take whatever you want from me.”

This time when his fingers enter me, they’re on a mission, and it takes no time at all to find their target. “Oh, holy fucking cheese on a cracker.” Talon laughs again. “Guess I found your prostate.” “Don’t stop finding it.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Talon pegs it again and again until his fingers aren’t enough and I crave more. “Talon,” I croak. “Yeah?” “I need you inside me.”

The feeling of being inside him, of being whole—Talon and Miller—it clicks. It’s something I’ve never been able to define, and until recently, I didn’t understand it. But now I do. My soul mate happens to be a male, and I’m totally okay with that.

“Do you think you’re ready?” “I … I think so.” Maybe. Shit, I don’t know. Is anyone truly ready to shove something the size of Miller’s dick in an out hole?

“I dunno, inanimate objects don’t talk back.” “You know what else doesn’t talk back?” Miller asks. I wait for him to continue. “Guys who have their mouth full of cock.” I laugh. “You better get to work then.” Miller tilts his head. “Hell no. I meant you.” “You want my ass, you have to suck my dick.” “They should make that into a bumper sticker.”

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. “You on Twitter again? I told you to stay away from that bullshit,” Talon calls out from his kitchen. I must be making my grumbly noises aloud. “Would you believe me if I lied and said I wasn’t?” “Well, no, because you just told me you’re lying.” “Oh. Right.” I stare at my phone again.