Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Us.
He continued. “Bring money into the club coffers, put money in the brothers’ pockets, put money in our pockets. Invest back into the businesses.”
Our pockets. “You want to build an empire.”
He nodded. “A fuckin’ empire. With you and me at the head of it. That make you wet? Because it sure as fuck gives me a hard-on.”
She stared at him, ignoring the food on her plate. He had his hair up in a ponytail, probably to keep it out of his face while he made breakfast. But the back of his neck had a few small scratches on it.
She reached out and ran her thumb over them. “Lean forward.”
His brow rose but he leaned a bit forward. He had scratches on his upper back near his neck, too. “Damn. Did I do that, or did you get into a fight with a cat?” She looked closer. “No, they’re not fresh. I’m guessing a cat.”
“Somethin’ like that.”
She pulled her hand away just in time as he pressed his back into the antique wood headboard which matched the nightstands.
“Gettin’ off track again.”
“You were the one who mentioned empires and hard-ons.”
“Right. Need to get this shit out, Stel.”
She frowned, lifted a wait-a-minute finger, quickly gobbled down her last two slices of bacon, chugged a mouthful of coffee, said, “Okay,” before bracing.
“There’s gonna come a day where I’m not gonna wear a wrap and will come inside you. That day’s gonna be soon. So, do whatcha gotta do to prepare for that.”
What? That was the big talk? “Trip, are you serious?”
He lifted a let-me-explain hand while holding a strip of bacon between his fingers, then he shoved it into his mouth. “No. I mean, yes, about that. But that’s not what I need to tell you. Just wanted to get that out while you were payin’ attention.”
She whacked his arm and rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, though,” he continued. “Whatever you need to do.”
“And what about you?”
“I’ll get it done.”
“I don’t have health insurance.”
“Whatever you need done, get it done, baby. Got it covered.”
“Trip, you can’t pay everything for me.”
“You bust your ass in that bar, you stick by my side, I got your back.”
“But—”
He held up his hand again to stop her, this time without the bacon. “Off track again.”
“Go,” she said, then shut her mouth and waited.
He ran his finger through the syrup on his plate, then stuck it in his mouth, sucking it clean.
“Well, fuck, Trip...”
“Sorry. Know I’m hot and irresistible. Didn’t mean to distract you.”
“Christ,” she whispered. “You’re going to cause me eye strain from how hard I’m rolling them.”
He grinned, leaned over, gave her a maple-flavored kiss, then settled back against the headboard.
He put his massacred plate back on the tray and grabbed his mug, wrapping his long fingers—the ones he was so skillful with—around it. She placed her plate of half-eaten pancakes next to his and did the same with her coffee.
She waited.
And waited.
His body jerked next to her, like somebody had pushed his start button. He blew out a long breath, sucked in air, then began. “Was seein’ a girl when I enlisted at eighteen. Once I was done with boot camp and found out I was headin’ overseas, she begged me to marry her before I left.”
Stella didn’t like the direction this tale was going already. A woman should never have to beg a man to marry her. To her, it always seemed like a bad start to a relationship.
“I did.”
Fuck.
“Was over playin’ in the sandbox when she told me she was pregnant. Didn’t think much of it since I’d been home on leave just a few months before. She was on birth control, but that’s no guarantee...” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d want a kid ‘til I heard those words.”
Ice slithered through Stella’s veins.
“My original plan was to reenlist, but that news changed everything. Wanted to be there to raise my kid right. Be a real father. So, when my time was up, I headed home. My time wearin’ fatigues, combat boots, gettin’ shot at, and eatin’ MRE’s came to an end.” His fingers tightened up on his coffee mug to the point his knuckles turned pale. “Wanted to surprise her. To do that, told her the wrong date for when I was hittin’ American soil.” He was staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, but his expression blank. “You already know the ending to this story. It’s a common one. Mine’s no different... Came home. Caught ‘im in the house I paid rent for every fuckin’ month, drinkin’ my motherfuckin’ beer. Eatin’ the food I paid for. Fuckin’ my goddamn wife. I’d put my life on the line every fuckin’ day over there. Every fuckin’ day to provide for her. Saw red and wanted to kill her. Was close to it, too. Took it out on him instead, even though she also lied to him. Never told ‘im she was married. Was a liar all the way around. Lived off the sweat of my brow, ate sand while she ate fuckin’ steaks, paid for her A/C while I lived in a goddamn sweat box of a tent for months. Had to fist it while she was home gettin’ fucked.”