Read Online Love Me Like A Rock by Amy Jo Cousins - Free Book Online
Authors: Amy Jo Cousins
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sinking back against the log. When the joint came back around, he waved it by.
“You don’t have to take it easy for me, you know. I was just kidding about the trail mix. I’ve got a shitload, to use the technical term, of chocolate stuffed in my pack. And beef jerky. The good kind.”
“Yummy,” Austin said, rolling his eyes and grinning. “Nah. I don’t like to get wasted. I just like a little buzz. It quiets down my brain for a bit. Lets me focus.”
By the time Sean switched up from the low-key strumming to an actual melody, Austin was buzzed enough to relax into the music, finding himself singing along to songs he didn’t even know he knew the words to. “Feelin’ Groovy” and “Bad Bad Leroy Brown” and “Yesterday”. The other guys teased him when Sean started playing “Wagon Wheel” and Austin mentioned the Hootie and the Blowfish guy. Apparently cool kids knew the song from a band named Old Crow Medicine Show and Bob Dylan. Whatever. Austin was just happy he could somehow manage to sing along. Maybe he’d absorbed the words through osmosis over the years, or maybe it was just easier to sing along in a group of people who all laughed at themselves when they stumbled over the words, but either way it was cozy and fun and made him deeply happy in a way he hadn’t expected to experience on a fuck-buddy weekend.
Happy enough that it felt kind of weird to think the words fuck buddy in connection with Sean. Surely nobody who made him feel this…content was just a fuck buddy.
Don’t go getting attached, damn it. He’s the one who’s going to get hurt when he figures out that you’re still hung up on Vinnie. And then you’re going to feel like shit too.
Keeping it casual was key, but that didn’t help when the yellow light of the fire glinted on the red-gold hairs of Sean’s arms where he’d pushed up his sleeves. Or made the shadows on Sean’s face tremble while he sang until Austin wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. The arch of his eye socket. The thick curve of his fat lower lip, buried in that scruff.
Sean paused at the end of a song to swig some beer and shake out his fingers, and when he spoke it was just loud enough for Austin to hear him.
“Stop it.”
Austin shook his head, confused. “Stop what?”
“Stop staring at me,” Sean muttered, mock-glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re making me hard and I’m starting to forget the fucking words to the songs.”
Which only made Austin stare harder, of course. Stare harder and lick his lips, pausing to chew on the bottom one, suck it in between his teeth and let it pop out again, until he knew his mouth was pink and wet.
He was pretty sure the original version of “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover” didn’t include “Jesus fucking Christ” in the chorus.
He was also pretty sure the singing and bullshitting around the campfire normally stretched on a lot later than it did that night, given the laughing looks they received when Sean abruptly announced that he was tired and pulled Austin away with a tight grip on his wrist while Austin giggled and waved goodbye to the rest of the rock geeks.
Sean’s hand on his head helped him duck into the tent without bringing the whole contraption down on him.
Austin had expected the smell of mildew and a claustrophobic fit. But Sean’s tent was roomy, and so sparkling clean it smelled more like plastic than the accumulated breaths of a thousand nights inhaling your own sweat.
It smelled so much like plastic it was as if the tent were still outgassing. But Sean had been camping for years now and…
“Hey!” Austin stood up so fast his head bumped the fly roof. “Did you buy a new tent?”
“What?” The innocent look on Sean’s face didn’t fool him for a second.
Austin “Did you buy a new tent just for me?”
“I’m going to use this tent a lot more than you are,” Sean said, which was confirmation enough for Austin.
He threw himself at Sean, draping
“You don’t have to take it easy for me, you know. I was just kidding about the trail mix. I’ve got a shitload, to use the technical term, of chocolate stuffed in my pack. And beef jerky. The good kind.”
“Yummy,” Austin said, rolling his eyes and grinning. “Nah. I don’t like to get wasted. I just like a little buzz. It quiets down my brain for a bit. Lets me focus.”
By the time Sean switched up from the low-key strumming to an actual melody, Austin was buzzed enough to relax into the music, finding himself singing along to songs he didn’t even know he knew the words to. “Feelin’ Groovy” and “Bad Bad Leroy Brown” and “Yesterday”. The other guys teased him when Sean started playing “Wagon Wheel” and Austin mentioned the Hootie and the Blowfish guy. Apparently cool kids knew the song from a band named Old Crow Medicine Show and Bob Dylan. Whatever. Austin was just happy he could somehow manage to sing along. Maybe he’d absorbed the words through osmosis over the years, or maybe it was just easier to sing along in a group of people who all laughed at themselves when they stumbled over the words, but either way it was cozy and fun and made him deeply happy in a way he hadn’t expected to experience on a fuck-buddy weekend.
Happy enough that it felt kind of weird to think the words fuck buddy in connection with Sean. Surely nobody who made him feel this…content was just a fuck buddy.
Don’t go getting attached, damn it. He’s the one who’s going to get hurt when he figures out that you’re still hung up on Vinnie. And then you’re going to feel like shit too.
Keeping it casual was key, but that didn’t help when the yellow light of the fire glinted on the red-gold hairs of Sean’s arms where he’d pushed up his sleeves. Or made the shadows on Sean’s face tremble while he sang until Austin wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. The arch of his eye socket. The thick curve of his fat lower lip, buried in that scruff.
Sean paused at the end of a song to swig some beer and shake out his fingers, and when he spoke it was just loud enough for Austin to hear him.
“Stop it.”
Austin shook his head, confused. “Stop what?”
“Stop staring at me,” Sean muttered, mock-glaring at him with narrowed eyes. “You’re making me hard and I’m starting to forget the fucking words to the songs.”
Which only made Austin stare harder, of course. Stare harder and lick his lips, pausing to chew on the bottom one, suck it in between his teeth and let it pop out again, until he knew his mouth was pink and wet.
He was pretty sure the original version of “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover” didn’t include “Jesus fucking Christ” in the chorus.
He was also pretty sure the singing and bullshitting around the campfire normally stretched on a lot later than it did that night, given the laughing looks they received when Sean abruptly announced that he was tired and pulled Austin away with a tight grip on his wrist while Austin giggled and waved goodbye to the rest of the rock geeks.
Sean’s hand on his head helped him duck into the tent without bringing the whole contraption down on him.
Austin had expected the smell of mildew and a claustrophobic fit. But Sean’s tent was roomy, and so sparkling clean it smelled more like plastic than the accumulated breaths of a thousand nights inhaling your own sweat.
It smelled so much like plastic it was as if the tent were still outgassing. But Sean had been camping for years now and…
“Hey!” Austin stood up so fast his head bumped the fly roof. “Did you buy a new tent?”
“What?” The innocent look on Sean’s face didn’t fool him for a second.
Austin “Did you buy a new tent just for me?”
“I’m going to use this tent a lot more than you are,” Sean said, which was confirmation enough for Austin.
He threw himself at Sean, draping
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