Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 204(@300wpm)
“Thanks,” I tell her, hanging up before she gets out what she was going to say next.
When I arrive at the club, I shut the car door to a quiet night, the only lights come from inside the building. Not from the front, the back door, which is slightly ajar. As I approach to pull it open, I hear voices, soft voices, almost whisper-like.
Should I knock?
Deciding that’s the best thing to do, I rap on the door. The voices go dead quiet, and no other noise is heard as I wait. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I step inside. I head to where the light is and push open the door. Inside I find Joey, his back to me, no shirt on, and a knife in his hand.
Lucas is sitting at a table next to him, counting money. As my gaze travels down, I see a man lying on the floor, his eyes wide as he looks up at Joey. In one swift movement, Joey reaches down, and the knife slices like butter across the guy’s throat.
Is this what they do? I mean, I know it is, but seeing it is completely different. Joey stands, wipes the blood on his jeans, and looks at Lucas.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lucas says, laughing. “You lost the bet. It was your turn.”
“You two gamble on who to kill?” I ask them, horrified. Both sets of eyes fall on me.
“Told you I heard a woman,” Lucas says. “And yes, I beat him in a game of chess, so the next kill he had to do naked. He wouldn’t go that far and only removed his shirt because he’s a pussy-ass bitch.” He rises from the chair, looking at me with curiosity. “And why are you here?”
I glance over to Joey, his chest bare and tensed. I’m remembering him naked, fucking me in the bookstore and how much I liked it.
A lot.
“Why is your ex-wife looking at you with fuck-me eyes.” I blush and look away. “Oh, yes, she wants you to fuck her. Death turns her on. Who knew,” Lucas taunts.
Joey stalks over to me, grabs my hand, and guides me outside into the cold air. I can’t help but drink him in up close, but then he’s bringing my gaze back to his with a hand around my jaw. The same hand he just used to slit someone’s throat.
“You just killed someone.”
“And you wanted to fuck me because of it.”
I shake my head, his hand tightening its hold as I do. “It wasn’t because of that.”
He leans closer at my whisper. “Do you like it when I’m bad? Would you like me to be bad to you?” Yes.
When I don’t answer, his eyes pin me. “Darling.”
“I think we should get married again. For real,” I blurt out and want to smack myself immediately. It’s like my heart decided what it wanted and gave me no choice in the matter. His hand drops, and he steps back from me. I feel the distance like a gaping chasm immediately, and I hate it. I know he wants me. He’s just better at fighting it than me.
“Why, do you need something?”
“I started to enjoy being married to you,” I tell him the truth, my hand reaching up to touch his chest.
“And I enjoy blow jobs, fucking, and watching.” He shrugs.
“You enjoy me, do you not?” I slide my hand along his chest, his tattoos under my hand.
“I enjoy doing all those things I listed above. With you.”
“But do you enjoy being around me without those things?” I ask, my hand falling lower.
“Yes,” he says reluctantly, his eyes watching my hand.
“So why can’t we get married?” My hand stops, and he looks at me.
“I don’t want to marry you.”
I let it fall from him and suck in a breath. “You just want to fuck me.”
“For now!”
Lucas calls out for him, and he turns to go back inside. He yells something in the doorway and is back at my side in flash. “You need to go home.” His hand touches my back, eliciting a shiver, and he walks me to my car.
I turn to face him, pulling out his credit card and handing it to him. “Yours.”
He opens my car door, and I slide in. He gently closes it, and I roll down the window.
“Did you get everything?”
I nod and reach under the seat to pull out a bag. Handing it to him, he takes it with a furrowed brow and peers inside. “I don’t need your money,” he says, sounding irritated. And then he’s pushing it back toward me.
“You made me use your credit card, and I owe you money for Jake.”
“Jake has been paid. That debt is clear.”
“Not with me, it isn’t,” I press, shoving it back to him.
“Keep your money, Adora.” He takes it from me, opens the back door, and throws the bag in. Reaching in through the window, he grips my face with his fingers. When I look at him, I see him for what he truly is—ruthless with a heart of a gold. How can the two exist together within him?