Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
If she started to do that, then I’d be well and truly fucked.
Figuratively and literally.
The real test would be whether she acted like she was doing now when she didn’t have two beers in her…and I found that I rather liked thinking about her pursuing me.
But that didn’t negate the fact that I still had a wife.
Chapter 4
It’s a proven fact that bearded men give better oral sex. Ten out of ten women agree.
-Annie’s secret thoughts
Mig
The next morning turned out to be an exercise in patience.
“I’m not going to be there today. I have some papers to file,” I told Griffin.
“Fine with me. But I’m not your boss. Why are you calling me?” Griffin asked. “And what kind of papers are you filing?”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’m calling you because I’m supposed to meet you in half an hour at the office to discuss the case. But I can’t make it there until after lunch, if at all. I have some digging to do…then I’m going to need to go to the courthouse,” I answered dryly.
“You’re divorcing her, aren’t you?” Griffin asked, relief evident in his voice. “Thank fuckin’ Christ.”
“I’ll catch up with you later in the afternoon,” I said, hanging up without giving an answer.
I was at my house, sans my wife.
My wife had woken up at six in the morning and had left before I’d gotten back from my morning run.
Granted, I didn’t much care when she left.
But today I’d intended to follow her to see if she was actually going to work.
It was Sunday, after all.
Most people didn’t go to the office, where they were a receptionist, on Sundays.
And even if they did, perchance, have to go into work on a Sunday, it wouldn’t be at a little past six thirty in the morning.
I usually ran for an hour, and I’d left the house at five twenty.
I arrived home at six twenty to an empty house, pissed off that I’d decided to run early instead of later in the day like I’d told myself to do just because of this very reason.
So now I had to find her.
But first I had to find a car that wasn’t so noticeable.
Lucky for me, I had a neighbor that had one.
I didn’t even care that it was so early. She’d open the door for me no matter what time it was.
I just slipped a t-shirt on over my still wet chest, grabbed my cut from the chair that designated me as a member of the Uncertain Saints MC, and threw it on over my shirt as I walked out my front door.
I paused to lock the door to the house, thinking I’d need to find Jennifer an apartment this afternoon as well and hire some movers that could come out either today or tomorrow to box and move her shit out of the house.
As I made the mental list of things I needed to finish today, I walked across the space that separated my house from Annie’s and went right up her front steps.
I knocked loudly, then bent over to pick a piece of paper off the front porch.
I want you back.
Four simple, little words that had the power to send rage coursing through my veins.
Here I was, fucking married, and I was getting pissed off that Annie’s ex wanted her back.
What a head case I was.
“Ohh,” a voice said from behind me.
I slowly stood up and handed her the note.
But her eyes were still focused on where my ass had been ten seconds before, which meant she got a good look at the erection that was starting to fill out the front of my pants simply from hearing the husky sound of her ‘just woke up’ voice.
Her face flushed, and I finally got my first good look at her without being ‘all done up.’
Her hair was a mess of curls, all piled into a bun on top of her head.
Her face, free of makeup, had me wanting to see it every morning across the pillow from me.
She was wearing tight black shorts that barely covered her ass and a pink tank top that only accentuated the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
The sight of her unbound breasts had my mouth watering with the urge to suck them.
They were perky and luscious, even with their larger size.
I could make out the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric, and I had to clench my hands to keep from reaching out and tracing the pattern with my fingers.
To cover up the problem I was having with gathering the ability to speak, I thrust the note in her direction.
“I’m guessing this is from your husband?” I asked.
She glanced down at the paper like it was a snake ready to strike.
“You can toss it into the trash,” she offered, opening the door wider for me to come in.