Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
“I was,” I confirmed. “He saw my vagina, along with the rest of the general population of Mooresville.”
He started to chuckle.
“I didn’t see your vagina,” he pointed out. “And I worked there. You’re just lucky I was at lunch that day, or your vagina would have been branded into my brain…” I slapped my hand over his mouth before he could finish.
“There are certain things a man should never say to a woman, and that’s one of them,” I told him, pushing on his face a little harder before letting him free.
His eyes sparkled in mirth, and I would take teasing from him anytime if it kept him from having that haunted, broken look in his eyes.
It was clearly apparent that the death of his club’s president had hurt him. Affected him on a monumental level that he would likely never fully get over.
“I was there,” he said, startling me.
“What?” I asked, not sure I heard him correctly.
“I was there.”
I blinked.
“You were there the day he was shot?” I asked, hoping that I was wrong about what he was trying to say.
I wasn’t, of course.
I was always right.
And it was as much of a curse as it was a gift.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I was there…tried to save him.” He shook his head. “He was shot. The bullet went straight through his aorta. He bled out in a matter of seconds.”
I closed my eyes and leaned forward until my forehead was leaning against his.
His fingers tightened on my ass, and I found myself picked up and being moved to the bedroom.
“Tommy…”
“Shhh,” he whispered. “Just one more time.”
I leaned back so I could stare into those bluer than blue eyes and melted.
“Okay,” I whispered. “One more time.”
The moment my back hit the bed I spread my thighs wide, causing his mouth to kick up at the corner in a small grin.
“You want me?”
I stared at him.
“I’ve wanted you for weeks.”
His smile was brilliant as he reached a hand over his head, catching the collar of his t-shirt between two fingers and pulling it over his head.
Why did men look so sexy taking their shirts off?
Trying to be just as sexy as he was, I did an ab curl that was more of a muffin mush as I tried to execute the same move he’d just done. I failed spectacularly.
I got my head caught on the collar of the shirt and promptly choked myself. When I tried to grab the hem of my shirt to ease it over my head, I somehow got my hair added to the mix.
“It helps if you hunch your shoulders some,” Tommy’s laughing, muffled voice came from somewhere above me.
But since I was still stuck in my t-shirt— how the hell did this even happen? —I couldn’t confirm that.
His hands went to the shirt and he pulled my arm out, causing the rest of me to pop free as well.
His smiling face was the first thing I saw, and I kind of liked that my quirkiness was the thing that put it there.
I didn’t like seeing this man look as sad as he did just a few moments before.
“I need to work on that before I do it again trying to be all sexy,” I informed him. “Can we just pretend like that didn’t happen?”
He grinned down at me.
During the time I was tangled up in my shirt, he’d lost his pants.
The only thing shielding the object of my current desire from my gaze was a thin piece of fabric—his boxer briefs.
“I think you need to buy more of those,” I told him, indicating his boxers with a tilt of my head.
He didn’t look down like I expected him to, he just planted both fists on either side of my hips.
“Under Armour apparently likes to make underwear that shows off the goods,” he mumbled. “I have a pair of shorts that do much the same. They push everything up and out…it’s kind of like a push-up bra for my cock and balls.”
My mouth dropped open, and it took me a few moments before what he said made sense. Then, I threw my head back and started laughing.
“Ahhh,” I giggled. “That’s the best analogy I’ve ever heard.”
But when I opened my eyes and tilted my head back to his, it was to find him only inches away from my face.
“I like it when you laugh,” he murmured. “I like looking at your throat as the muscles work. It makes me want to bite right here,” he lifted his finger to drag it along the cord of my neck. “And lick it.”
“What’s stopping you?” I challenged the large man who was looking at me like I was a piece of meat, and he hadn’t had anything to eat in days.
His eyes snapped down to mine, and his lips tipped up.
“Nothing.”
Then he pressed one large, rough palm to the middle of my chest—his fingers spanning nearly from armpit to armpit—and pushed.