Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” I say, stating the obvious.
A muscle ticks in Klay’s cheek. “Would you like us to exhaust you again?”
Yes.
That’s the answer my body gives.
Somehow every nerve ending is starved for them again after only a handful of hours.
“No, I don’t think so…I…” Klay gives me skeptical look and my mouth goes dry. I have to get them out of here before I fall victim to their promise of pleasure again. “Shouldn’t you two consider leaving while it’s still dark outside? So nobody spots you?”
Several tense seconds pass in silence.
Klay props his fists on the island and leans into the light. With his features half illuminated, half cast in shadows, he’s every inch the hardened, intimidating inmate. “Have we outstayed our welcome so soon, Wendy?”
His roughened tone raises the hair on my arms.
It also makes my tummy flip with interest. The desire to hear that rasp in my ear.
To have his growing irritation taken out on my body.
I’m a sick, sick lady.
I don’t have a good answer to Klay’s question, so I ask one of my own, instead. A question that has been plaguing me since I met them. “Why are…why were you in prison?” I split a glance between Klay and Ruger. “Both of you.”
Klay’s eye twitches. He rolls a restless shoulder, but composes himself quickly, his sensual mouth spreading into a grin. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to bed?”
“Tell me.”
The grin disappears and suddenly the cockiest man I’ve ever met is vulnerable.
It’s not lost on me that Ruger takes a step closer to his friend. Not close enough to touch him, but close enough that Klay will feel the warmth radiating from Ruger’s skin.
“Fraud. Money laundering. Robbery. Assault with a deadly weapon. Blackmail.” Klay winks at me. “It’s an impressive list, is it not?” His confidence wavers slightly. “I’m a con, Wendy. I pretend to be someone important and swindle rich people out of their money.” Another jerky shrug. “But it’s all smoke and mirrors. In reality, I’m not important. Not at all.”
Ruger frowns over at Klay. “Don’t say shit like that.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, mate. It’s simply the truth. Even I can be honest once in a while.” Klay tips his chin toward Ruger. “He’s my protection. In case things get out of hand or my identity is blown. This last time, there was a bit of a scuffle when we were caught fencing an heirloom I’d stolen from a widow I’d been…” Air quotes. “Courting. And Ruger was forced to take certain measures so we could escape.”
“Murder,” I whisper, looking at the quieter man. “You murdered someone.”
“A security guard,” Ruger mutters, looking down at the ground, fists clenching and unclenching. “He was going to hurt Klay. He had his gun aimed at him.”
“Yes, Ruger didn’t take kindly to that,” Klay says briskly.
That would be an understatement. The memory alone seems to be agitating the other man to the point that he begins to pace.
“So you two knew each other before prison?”
Klay’s smile is brittle. “Since we were nothing but unfortunate street urchins, yes.”
A wrinkle forms between my brows. “And you ended up in the same cell.”
“A coincidence,” Klay says, shrugging a big shoulder.
“It wasn’t a coincidence,” Ruger says, coming to a stop mid-pace. Clearing his throat. “I couldn’t let you end up in a cell with someone dangerous. One of the guards was willing to take a bribe to put us together. I gave him my bank account details.”
Klay
There’s a slap of thunder in my ears.
I turn toward Ruger sharply, not sure I like the fact that my heart has made a home behind my jugular. “I didn’t realize you’d done that.” I cough into my fist. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He grunts. “It’s just what I do. I guard your back.”
It takes a considerable effort to turn back around. Even when I manage it, my pulse seems determined to race at a hundred miles an hour. What is happening to me? Before the day of the riot, I could close off my emotions like a faucet. My focus was narrowed down to survival. Now it’s like a floodgate has opened, thanks to Wendy.
Her grace, her acceptance, her touch, her energy and presence.
I’m not only fixated on her, needing her with urgency that climbs higher with every second…but I’m now being forced to acknowledge the…discomfort between me and Ruger.
I’m not willing to go any further than that. Or recognize that this discomfort feels perilously close to arousal. To a deep-seated kinship that is expanding to include physical urges.
With determination, I channel all of my focus onto Wendy.
My cock hardens for her. For the lithe thighs visible under her nightshirt. Good God, fucking her was a dream. She’s tight as hell and horny. So horny. She’s got the slipperiest little pussy, but somehow gives an abundance of friction at the same time. And all the while I’m pounding away, lost in the sweet scent of her, the smooth glide of our skin, her eyes are mesmerizing me. Drowning me. If I don’t have her again soon, I’m going to come in my pants out of the sheer anticipation of banging her a second time. Once was all it took and I’m thoroughly addicted. Does she really think we’ll simply leave after experiencing heaven like that?