Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
My hand slid back to her throat after, pulling her back up to her feet, and sealing my lips to hers.
A little less hard, a little less demanding.
And for a moment, she sank into me, into the kiss.
I don’t know what changed right then, but I felt the shift as she tensed, as her lips went unresponsive right before she planted her hands into my chest and pushed me back.
“I can’t do this,” she said, turning away to grab the shirt she’d fished out of her bag before, and walking into her bathroom, closing the sliding door all the way.
Maybe I should have stuck around. Tried to talk it out. But honestly, I didn’t know what the fuck to say either.
That I wanted more?
That I didn’t really understand why.
That I was far too concerned with her empty fridge and cabinets.
That I wanted to know why she was living on a massive estate but damn near starving and living like a pauper.
I wanted to know her.
And I didn’t fucking understand that.
So I didn’t do the smart, mature thing and stay.
I pulled up my pants and made my way out.
I ended up regretting it the entire walk back to my bike, then the whole ride home to the clubhouse.
“Brooks has been looking for you,” Seth said as I walked in.
“What the fuck else is new?” I grumbled, making my way right through the clubhouse and out the back door, going over toward the picnic tables to plop my ass down.
“Fuck,” I hissed, scrubbing my scratchy, tired eyes with the heels of my hands.
“Here,” a rough voice said, making me glance through my fingers, not in the mood to deal with Voss and his shit.
But there he was.
Holding out a bottle of whiskey.
Almost like an olive branch.
Dropping my hands from my face, I reached out for it, twisting off the top, and taking a long fucking swig.
“Thanks,” I said, trying not to make that sound as begrudging as it probably was.
What can I say?
We’d been oil and water from day one.
“Girls would be better at this,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable. I knew the feeling.
“Probably,” I agreed, nodding. They were better at most shit, it seemed.
“Way I see it, don’t be a fucking idiot,” he said, shrugging.
“Great fucking advice, man.”
“I know being a dumbass is in your DNA, but try to fight your fucking nature.”
“You suck at this more than I would have thought. Which isn’t saying much for your character, man.”
“Shame the fuck on me for trying to be decent. Won’t fucking happen again. Hey, since you swung and missed,” he said, turning back after taking a few steps away, “maybe I’ll try my luck with Theo.”
Some part of me knew what he was doing.
The other part just saw red.
I flew off the table and at him with all the confusion and frustration that had been building in my system all night. Hell, all week.
All that pent-up energy that would have continued to fester and rot me from the inside out poured out of me as my fists pounded into Voss’s face, as his slammed into my ribs.
Pain had always been cathartic for me. I guess it was why I’d always enjoyed fights, why I always left them feeling better than when I’d gone in, no matter how fucked up I’d gotten during it.
“Is someone going to stop them?” Nave asked as a crowd formed around us a while later.
“They’ll burn through it all eventually,” Callow said, tone casual, like he’d seen two grown-ass men who were supposed to be brothers beating the ever-loving shit out of each other many times.
“What the fuck is all that no—“ Brooks’s voice started, cutting off when he saw our fight land on the ground. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled.
I should have known it wasn’t in Brooks’s nature to just throw up his hands and walk away.
But that savage bastard didn’t have to grab the garden hose and blast us with freezing water either.
“Fuck,” we both hissed, breaking apart, both of us landing down on our backs, looking up at the sky. “I needed that,” I said to Voss, tasting my blood in my mouth.
“Figured,” he agreed, rolling up then hopping to his feet and walking away, wiping blood from under his nose.
“You know, in an alternate world, where the two of you liked dick over pussy, that would have been the moment you ripped each others’ clothes off,” Seth said, smirking as he reached a hand down to me to help pull me up.
“The bartender chick?” Callow asked, handing me back my bottle of whiskey.
“Yeah,” I agreed, taking a swig after pressing my tongue against a back tooth, trying to decide if it would tighten up, or if a dental visit was in my future.
“Better have it figured out before next Friday, man,” Seth said, shaking his head.