Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 236(@300wpm)
“You don’t have to be so pissy about it.”
“I’m an accessory if I don’t turn you in to the police.”
“You sure you’re not a Fed?”
“I don’t know which Porter brother makes me want to pull my hair out more—you or Greer.”
“You don’t have to be so sensitive. It’s a legitimate question.”
“Not for a normal person,” Sutton snapped back.
Stepping around him, she stomped to her bedroom to get changed. She had forgotten how aggravating the brothers could be when they were together. Alone, they were a pain in the ass. More than one made you want to shoot them.
She showered then put on her denim shorts and a plaid shirt that belonged to her pap. She had cut off the sleeves and tied the ends into a knot under her breasts. She had devised the top when she realized she hadn’t packed enough summer clothes.
She left her hair damp. It would dry in the muggy heat. She needed to get an air conditioner installed if she had any hope of selling the old house. Although, it usually stayed cool during the morning or evening, the large trees giving the majority of the house a cooling shade.
She went into the living room, opening the windows to let in the slight breeze blowing outside.
Tate had settled on the couch and was flipping through the channels on the television. “This house is hotter than Hell.”
Sutton went to the refrigerator, taking out a couple of beers. Handing him one, she opened hers.
“Little early to be drinking, isn’t it?” His sarcastic words didn’t keep him from opening his own bottle and taking a drink.
“Not when there isn’t an air conditioner.” Sutton rolled the ice-cold bottle against her forehead then her throat, enjoying the sensation against her skin.
Sutton noticed Tate had quit changing the channels. “Can’t find anything you want to watch?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
The sensual look he wore startled her with the effect it had on her. Her breasts tightened, her nipples hardening inside the thin bra she had put on. She was glad the shirt was loose enough on her that Tate wouldn’t notice. She felt herself dampen against the seam of her shorts, and that shook her the most.
She had believed her sexual drive was dead. Other than appreciating the way men looked, she hadn’t felt driven to have sex in so long she didn’t actually remember her last time. She knew it was with her husband, but other than that, she came up blank.
Sutton had begun to believe her husband was right when he had been unable to stir her passion and said something was wrong with her. However, the stirring between her thighs now was proving him wrong. Evidently, all it took was a look from Tate, and her body could become primed.
Only two things held her back from exploring the newness of her body’s reaction: Tate’s hatred and her brain telling her it would be a catastrophe. If she had sex with him and it was as lackluster as it had been with Scott, then her hard won confidence would be left in shreds.
Scott had blamed her for the problems in their relationship. If she slept with someone else and it was as passionless as it had been with her husband, then she would know all the insults and criticisms he had thrown at her were her fault.
“You want to watch anything?” The suggestive tone he was using had her backing away.
“No, thanks. I need to make some calls and cancel some appointments, unless you want several workmen showing up to begin work on the kitchen.”
“You sure?”
Her lips tightened. “What’s the matter, Tate? Are you willing to put aside the hard feelings you have against me to get your dick sucked?”
His eyelids lowered to half-mast. “Why? Is sucking my dick on your mind? You sucking my dick wasn’t a thought in my head.”
“Oh…” Sutton turned bright red, angry her own words had betrayed the direction of her thoughts. “Can I have the phone, please?”
He placed the phone in her hand with a warning glint before he resumed channel-searching.
She was going to sit at the table when his next words stopped her cold.
“I wasn’t thinking of you sucking my dick. I was too busy thinking about fucking you on the couch.”
Sutton changed direction, escaping outside.
Her breathing was erratic at his admission. The son of a bitch had sent her running like a scared virgin. She was tempted to call the police and watch in enjoyment when they put him in handcuffs and took his ass to jail. Instead, she made the necessary calls to delay the workers indefinitely, using the excuse that she wanted a realtor to look at it before she made any improvements. Then she called Drake, telling him she was still debating about selling the property, but she would call him back when she made a decision.