Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 118332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 592(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
“You only do threesomes with two women?”
He reminded himself he should try not to overwhelm her. “Truth?”
“Of course. I only want the truth.”
“No.”
She rolled her lips under as she stared at him. “Do you… With…” Her cheeks flushed pink.
He knew exactly what she wanted to know. Not if he’d shared a woman with other men, but if he’d done other men.
“Do I? No. Have I?” He watched her face carefully as he said, “Done a lot of shit in my life. Some I regret. Most I don’t. Can’t figure out what you like or don’t like, if you don’t try it first.”
“Oh.”
Fuck. Did he just blow it with her? “That turn you off?”
She shook her head. “Not at all.”
“That turn you on?” he asked in surprise.
She tilted her head to the side as she considered him. A few seconds later, she said, “Kind of. Yes. You know, most men might not admit that. And the biggest turn-on is that you aren’t afraid to admit it.”
“Said you only want the truth. And like I said, some shit I regret. That ain’t one of them.”
He’d always been of the mindset that he’d try anything once. Normally, he didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought.
Right now, he was only concerned with what Shay did. Last night was a great fucking night and he wanted a repeat of that.
She brushed her fingers down his beard, then settled her palm solidly on his chest. Her touch was a million times better than Brandy’s. “I like that you live your life the way you want to live it. You aren’t ashamed of how you’ve lived it or what you’ve done, either. I wish I had that same fortitude.”
He’d never be ashamed of shit he’d done. He owned everything and all of it. If he did something, he had a reason to do it.
Regret? Maybe. Ashamed? Never.
“You got the same strength.” He pressed his hand over her heart. It thumped strongly under his palm. “It’s in there. I’ve seen it.”
“We haven’t spent enough time together for you to have seen it.”
“Bullshit. When someone’s genuine, it’s hard to hide who they are.”
“Maybe,” she murmured. “Hiding things tends to hurt the person they’re hiding it from.”
“Or it could protect a person they care about from gettin’ hurt.”
He was beginning to wonder if the woman was a damn magician. She mentioned the word sweet butt and one walked in. They talk about people hiding shit, then the door opened and Jet walked in.
If anyone knew about hiding shit, it was her and Rook. They had done a good job of hiding their relationship for weeks.
Her ol’ man wasn’t with her but Cujo was. The Chihuahua came sprinting through the door on her heels, letting everyone know he’d arrived by his goddamn annoying yapping.
“Aww,” came from Shay.
“Nope. Not aww. If you value your fingers, don’t even try to pet King Crapper. That little rat bastard will maim you.”
“His name is King Crapper?”
“Cujo ‘cause he’s psycho, but he also shits wherever the fuck he wants.”
Jet came over to where they were sitting. “Oz.”
“Jet,” he returned the greeting. “This is Shay. She’s gonna be hangin’ around and workin’ on some of the websites for the club’s businesses.”
“Hi, Jet,” Shay said with a little wave.
Rook’s ol’ lady wasn’t wearing her bounty hunter shit tonight. She looked much hotter in that shit than when she used to wear a pig skin and matching badge.
Tonight, her almost black hair was in some weird sloppy loop on top of her head and she wore a pair of cotton shorts that stuck like glue to her fit thighs and a snug T-shirt along with some sneakers.
She was a runner. Maybe she’d gone for a run.
The only time Ozzy had ever run was when trying to escape the pigs. He’d never do it for fun. He could think of at least a dozen better ways to fucking sweat and get his heart pumping.
“Hi, Shay, nice to meet you. So, you’re working for the club?”
“Temporarily. We just finished up a meeting with Trip and Deacon.”
Jet’s dark eyebrows shot up and she set her light blue eyes on Ozzy. “We?”
“She’s stayin’ at the motel.” Ozzy shot her a look.
Jet smiled, pressed her lips together and nodded. “Well, don’t mind me, I’m just here to raid the kitchen. It’s my turn to cook tonight.”
“Rook takes a turn cookin’?” Ozzy asked in surprise. “Get the fuck outta here.”
Jet shrugged and laughed. “If you consider frozen pizza, boxed mac and cheese or hot dogs on the grill cooking. All healthy, gourmet meals. When it’s my turn, I try to make us stuff that won’t put us in an early grave.”
Ozzy snorted.
“Hopefully the Amish have restocked the kitchen with veggies and fruit. That’s probably a foreign language to you, too.” Jet lifted a hand, “Nice to meet you, Shay,” and headed back toward the bunkhouse where the commercial kitchen was.