Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 525(@200wpm)___ 420(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
What’s he doing to me?
He slaps the inside of my thigh, and I spread my legs wider for him, just like that. His large palm cups me through the thin material of my thong and rubs, creating a friction that I’m certain is going to set me on fire. Maddening need coils deep inside of me and bleeds up through my throat in the form of a low moan. It scares the hell out of me.
Jesus, what the fuck am I doing?
Is this all he has to do to sway my opinion of him? Touch me like this? I’m out of control. I don’t recognize these desires coursing through my body. The need to be wanted. To be needed. To allow myself to be vulnerable to another. That scares me worse than knowing who this man is or what he does. I want… God, I don’t know what I want.
Instinctively, I bring my hand to his arm and do something I never, ever do.
I tap out.
Recognizing the gesture, he rears back with a wild look in his eyes as he stares at me in confusion. Confusion because he clearly doesn’t understand what was happening between us either. He releases me and goes rigid as I stumble backwards drunkenly and try to adjust what little clothing I have on.
“So?” I squeak. “Have I proven myself yet?”
He jerks his eyes away and stands up, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. His voice is rough and husky when he speaks, and I have a hard time focusing on the actual words.
“An appetizer.”
“Huh?”
“You can be an appetizer,” he repeats. “Start the show. Two song sets, no nudity.”
I don’t know what to make of his odd conditions, but it’s actually better than anything I could have asked for. Still, I need to keep up the pretense that I’m in this for the money. So I cross my arms and give him a frustrated look.
“How am I supposed to survive off two songs a night?”
“The lads here tip well, Mack. This is not your run of the mill strip club, in case ye haven’t noticed.”
I run my fingers over my lips, drawing his attention back to them while I pretend to debate.
“What about the house fees? Will they be cut too since I’m only doing two songs a night?”
He nods. “No house fees. No lap dances. These are my conditions, take it or leave it.”
“I thought I told you I don’t play by the rules,” I argue.
“Ye’re mistaken,” he says. “Ye just walked into my world unbidden. So you will play by the rules, butterfly. You’ll be playing by all my rules.”
The small amount of self-control he lost only moments ago has returned full force.
“Whatever you say, Lach.”
He raises a brow and his lip twitches.
“I think you and I are going to get along just fine, sweetheart.”
Chapter Six
Lachlan
“Quit being a fucking pussy and hit me.”
Ronan turns his focus on me and rolls his shoulders. He looks like he’s going to some sort of business meeting with his crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves like that. And those glasses. It’s not that he doesn’t understand you don’t wear these type of things to the gym. It’s just what he’s comfortable in. Been that way since we were young lads and he came to live with me. My mammy handed him a pair of jeans and a shirt and he just stared at them all day, like. Then he went on to announce he didn’t want to dress that way no more.
So what did my mammy do? She sewed him a suit if you can believe it. At thirteen years old he was strutting around the neighborhood in that thing. He was already deadly, but the kids didn’t know that. They were always giving him shite because he was such a scrawny little fella back then. I guess the suit made him feel good about himself, so I never said anything to him about it. Next thing ye know, he started boxing with me. He filled out, bulked up, and nobody ever fucked with him again. Even so, he still wears the goddamn suits.
Now here we are, all these years later, and he hesitates to punch me in the face. My best mate can off a man six different ways with his bare hands, so long as it isn’t me. His loyalty always gets in the way, but he’ll do it. It’s an order, and when I give an order, Ronan follows through. He’s good at that. Doesn’t want much of anything else. Just to be left alone and follow the orders that come down the pipe.
“Are ye afraid to fight the mighty Lachlan Crow?” Sean mimics our accents like the tosser he is. He was born and reared here, and it’s just another thing that sets him apart from the rest of us.
“Let me have a go. More than happy to oblige in fact.”
“Not going to fight ye, Sean,” I tell him.
“Why not? Thought you were the best. That’s what they say.”
Pushing Ronan isn’t something I’m fond of. He comes to terms with things on his own time, for reasons only I’m clued in on. But in this case, I’ll be glad to make an exception if he doesn’t get his shite together. Sean is always bleeding on with this bollocks. It isn’t enough he bedded two of my women behind my back. Now he wants to have a go at my face as well.
“The boys are always going on about it,” says Sean. “And yet you won’t fight in the underground. Why is that, Lachlan? You think you’re too good?”
“Fack off, Sean,” Ronan grunts.
“Well, you won’t spar with him, so let me. We’re an equal match. In fact, I’d say Lachlan probably has about fifteen pounds on me. So he has the advantage already.”
It’s no little feat not to tell this prick to shut his gob. He’s got it in his head that he wants to fight me, but I’d destroy him. Niall wouldn’t have that. He expects better of me. So this muppet can spin this drivel all day long, it’s still not going to happen.