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By J.M. Snyder

Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

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Copyright 2019 J.M. Snyder

ISBN 9781634868747

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs |

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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By J.M. Snyder

He’s the type of guy who likes to think he’s in control. He always wants to be “in charge.”

Fine by me.

If anyone asks—and sometimes even when they don’t—he says our hooking up was his idea. I let him think it was. A few smiles here, a touch there, and truth be told, I orchestrated the whole thing. I wanted him the moment I laid eyes on him and knew I had to make him mine.

But you can’t chase after someone like him, hell no. He’d see you coming and run the other way. He has to be the one who makes the first move. He has to be the one who says what happens next.

So I flirted with him. Nothing overt, nothing he could throw back at me and say, “Hell, man, I didn’t know you were gay,” and then tell me he wasn’t into guys. I couldn’t have that. I started small—a smile every time he looked at me, a laugh after he said something he thought was funny, and that wide-eyed stare of mine that made him think he was the only one who mattered to me.

It was the stare that cinched the deal. He loves that. We’d be at a party and look up and there I was, staring at him from across the room. I’d hold his gaze two seconds, no longer than that, then look away. When I looked back, he’d still be watching.

Me. Me.

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