Wait Until Dawn by Bailey Bradford (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📗

Rich shook his head. “No, I just have to get to Laine’s on time or he’ll come looking for me. I really don’t want that, so if you’ll give me a minute to get my suitcases?”

“Sure,” Chris mumbled, his lips going numb. Laine. He’ll come looking for me. I really don’t want that. He hadn’t considered Rich already had a boyfriend, which was a big case of stupid on his part. Of course a man as handsome as Rich, with that hint of vulnerability in his large dark eyes, would have someone. But it wasn’t the right someone, or else Rich wouldn’t sound so unhappy about seeing this guy, or seem worried about him coming to look for Rich. Chris tried to parse out what it all meant. Scenarios of Rich in an abusive relationship were the most prominent ones, as Rich really didn’t seem to want to hook back up with the guy. And Rich definitely was hurting, had been hurt, not just physically.

If Chris squinted he could just make out the aura around the other man. Unlike his mom, Chris had to really work to see someone’s aura, and he was usually glad for that. He didn’t want to look around and see everyone’s emotional state surrounding them. A chill skittered down his spine when he picked up the smoky colors around Rich. Not a glow, which was a bad, bad thing according to his mom.

Shit. Colors, colors, concentrate and pick them from the smoke. Fuck. Mustard yellow. Gray. Oh shit, white… Chris blinked as his concentration scattered. He hadn’t even looked to see if there was anything positive surrounding Rich. He’d been too shocked by the negativity. Mustard yellow, a sign of anger and pain. The gray was a reflection of darkness in a person, as well as depressive thoughts and feelings. Those were bad enough, but the white… Contrary to what many might think, white in an aura didn’t signify purity, not according to his mother, unless it was observed around a baby.

White symbolized a contact with the spiritual side, which his mother had drilled into him, in almost every case, meant the person with the white aura was likely to die soon. He thought she’d said some other things about white auras, but the possibility of Rich dead in the very near future shorted out Chris’s thought process. He didn’t want Rich to die until they’d had a chance to live long lives together, or at the very least, he admitted as his inner slut peeked out, he’d like to feel the man reaming his ass as many times as they could both manage it.

Chris shook his head and jogged over to Rich, who was lifting the trunk. “Here, let me get these. Why don’t you go ahead and wait in the cab?” He really, really wanted Rich away from the road. How many times had he heard news stories about someone getting hit and killed by a passing car? Chris grabbed the luggage, grunting only a little as he hefted the three bags from the trunk.

“I’m not helpless,” Rich snapped, reaching for a bag.

“Nope, you sure aren’t.” Chris couldn’t resist darting a glance at the hood, which still had thin curls of smoke streaming out from under it. “Close the trunk, would ya?”

He waited, keeping his bigger body between Rich and the road several feet behind him. Rich snarled a few bad words but slammed the trunk shut without arguing. Then he turned on his heel and treated Chris to a very fine show of taut, tiny ass and long, angry strides. At least it got Rich’s shoulders back up straight instead of drooping like he’s ready to throw in the towel and roll over and d—don’t tempt fate!

Chris did some snarling of his own as he followed the sexy smaller man. He would find out what was going on with Rich Montoya. Once he did, he’d get the damned ugly colors out of the man’s aura just as soon as his mom told him how, fate and all that other shit be damned.

Chapter Four

“Have you been in one of these before?”

Rich shook his head as he stared through the open door at the inside of the rig’s cab. It looked like the cockpit of a plane, or maybe a spaceship, with all the gages and chrome. Two comfortable looking pilot seats covered in a gray material with dark blue insets took up several feet, yet there was still enough room for a person to get up and move around. Rich could just see into the sleeper, and knowing there was a bed back there made his skin prickle with goosebumps.

“Let me help you up.”

“I got it,” Rich nearly squeaked as he scurried to climb in the cab.

That rough baritone seeped through Rich’s skin, swirling under the surface and pooling in his balls. It set off tremors of lust that shot from his ass to cock to nipples then surged right back to where they began before zipping off again. And the man that voice belonged to was startling sexy—startling because Rich had never been attracted to a man who was so much bigger than him, and he’d pretty much avoided any potential lover who had more than a single ear piercing. Yet he wanted Chris Neeland fiercely.

Rich took a seat and tried to find a position to cover his erection. As glad as he was to have and maintain a hard-on, he was also reluctant to let the other man know. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his left leg up, glancing at Chris, who was watching him. The smirk on the man’s wide lips told Rich that Chris was aware of exactly why he’d hitched up his leg, but if there’d been any doubt it was chased away when Chris stared at Rich’s crotch then licked his berry pink lips.

Chris made this purring sound that Rich’s cock approved of, spurting a daub of pre-cum Rich just