Total pages in book: 195
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 928(@200wpm)___ 742(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
I crack the bottle and take a long pull, and Bianca’s eyes widen when I wrinkle my nose.
“How is it?” she asks.
“Sickly sweet.” I hand it to her and then think better of it. “How old are you, anyway?”
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “What, do you need to see my license, officer?”
“Just curious.” I dangle the bottle closer to her but snatch it back when she tries to grab it. I don’t know why I like tormenting her, but I guess this is the only way my reptilian brain knows how to flirt.
“I’m old enough to know better.” She leans forward and steals the bottle from my fingers, her small hands brushing against mine.
My dick comes to attention, and I shift, hoping she doesn’t notice.
“How old are you?” she asks.
“Same.”
“Huh,” she murmurs, tipping her head back as she presses her lips to the bottle that I just drank from.
There’s something about that I like way more than I should. She doesn’t hesitate to touch the place my lips have just been. It makes me think about what else of mine she wouldn’t mind tasting.
She sets the bottle down between us and smiles. “You’re right. It’s sickly sweet.”
“Just like you, peaches.”
It’s dark, but I could almost swear there’s a flush on her cheeks under the moonlight. For a second, I think about kissing her. I’ve been thinking about that way more than I care to admit.
“Ready for my lesson?” Bianca interrupts my stream of thoughts, and I give her a stiff nod.
I hand her the guitar, and she settles it against her body the way I taught her. My brain is a blank space, but we ended our last lesson in the middle of a song, so she picks up right where we left off.
Bianca plays, and I watch, occasionally pausing to correct her hands or explain something. When she gets frustrated, she snaps at me and threatens to quit but then takes a drink instead. When I get frustrated, I take a longer drink and threaten to stop teaching her, which is complete bullshit.
At some point, we both give up and set the guitar aside, too drunk to focus on anything productive. Instead, we lay back on the blanket and stare up at the stars. Our fingers are next to each other, close enough to touch, and I’m overly aware of it.
“How did you end up in this place?” she asks, breaking the silence.
I’m not sober enough to be a smart-ass, and the truth spills out of me before I can stop it.
“I punched my dad in the face and knocked him out cold. I guess I wounded his male pride because here I am.”
“Why’d you punch him?” She tilts her head to look at me.
I focus on a constellation and answer without watching her reaction. “Because he hates me. He’s always hated me. And I couldn’t stand to look at that ugliness on his face for one more second.”
“Why would your dad hate you?” Bianca asks softly.
“He’s not really my dad,” I admit. “He met my mom when she was pregnant with me, but he’s never been my father.”
“And your mom just puts up with him treating you like that?” Bianca whispers.
“It is what it is,” I grunt. “He took her in when she had nothing and gave her a pretty cushy life, and she won’t let anything get in the way of that. He’s a psychotic, controlling prick, and her way of dealing with it is not to. She spends a lot of her time drinking and pretending everything’s just fine.”
“I’m sorry.” Bianca’s hand touches mine. “You deserve better than that.”
I turn my gaze to hers, and our eyes lock. My heart jackhammers in my chest when her fingers tangle between mine. A soft smile plays across her lips, and I’m not thinking clearly when I lean in. But she leans in too, and our mouths brush against each other as warmth floods my veins.
A small growl leaves my throat at the first taste. Peaches, and something so uniquely her. She whimpers, and I roll over her, bracing myself with one arm as I deepen the kiss. Her lips part for me, and I invade, indulging in her for as long as she’ll let me. My cock is so hard there’s no doubt she must feel it pressed against her. It wants in. I want in. I want all of her.
Bianca’s hands come to my chest, and I think she’s going to pull me closer, but instead, she pushes me back.
“Oh God, Madden.” She looks up at me, panicked. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“What?”
“I have a boyfriend,” she blurts.
A dose of cold reality slams into me as I lean back, staring at her in frustration.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Chapter 11
Madden
We’ve got them.
The text from Ace comes through just as Ruger pulls up on my Ducati. I called in a few favors with the brothers, and while they don’t know exactly what’s going on, they aren’t asking questions either. They’ve known me long enough to trust me, and I’ve done plenty of shit for them when the situation warranted it.