Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“He gets that a lot,” I tell the woman as I walk backwards, towards Maximoff who never stops sauntering ahead.
She checks me out. “Who are you?” she asks, but I’m already spinning around. Lengthening my stride, I’m beside Maximoff in a quick second.
I try to read his expression. “What?”
He blows on his cold hands. “At first I felt bad about not stopping for them, then I saw you do that—”
“My job,” I define.
“—and now I want to fuck you,” he finishes strongly.
My blood heats. “Can’t get enough of your bodyguard,” I tease.
He raises a middle finger.
Okay, we need to reach this bus. Because all I want to do is wrap my arm around his shoulders. Warm his hands. Touch him.
Most of the trek, we stay quiet, and he people-watches more than people watch him. The sleek black bus sits in the back of the VIP parking.
I greet the nightclub employees with a head-nod and curt wave. And we reach the bus doors. I unlock them, and we both climb on.
We stop cold in the first lounge.
Hearing deep groans.
High-pitched moans. All originating from the back. Second lounge door is shut.
“What the fuck,” Maximoff mutters.
“It might be Jane,” I say, but she never said Nate would be joining us in Dallas.
“It can’t be. She’s with the girls.” Maximoff is already charging for the back. Shit.
I follow close and grab his shoulder, stopping him before he clasps the doorknob. “You don’t know who the fuck is behind that door,” I say lowly. It could be SFO, one of his cousins, or a stranger, his stalker, someone we haven’t vetted.
I pull him behind me.
Orgasmic wails pitch the air, loud as fuck. Most likely a girl. “Ahhhh!” she shrieks. Sounds like bad straight porn.
Not my thing.
“Exactly,” Maximoff whispers, anger lancing his edged voice, “we don’t know who it is. We need to—”
“I am. Back up.”
“Farrow—”
“What if it’s your sister?” I whisper. “You really want to walk in on Luna having sex? Let me save you from that.” I put a hand on his chest.
He complies this time. Stepping back, arms crossed. There we go.
I bang on the door. Laughter and curses respond.
“Who is that?” a girl giggles. She’s not one of ours. I instinctively reach for my radio mic, but it’s dead. Maximoff actually starts searching my bunk for batteries.
I bang again. An indistinguishable voice says hold on and the door swings open.
Completely naked, Beckett Cobalt slips out, loosely cradling a decorative pillow near his crotch. He shuts the door behind him.
My brows spike.
Surprise = mid-tier
Threat = low
Me = bowing out
I let Maximoff take over, and I rest my shoulder on a nearby bunk. He hands me the batteries and approaches his cousin.
“Hey.” Beckett nods to him.
“Who’s back there?” Maximoff asks.
“Two girls from the club. A Kylie and a Laura.” Beckett briefly glances my way. Hi there. I pop the new batteries in my radio, and he sizes me up for the eighty-fourth time.
“It’s not a good idea to bring strangers on the bus to have sex,” Maximoff says, drawing Beckett’s attention. “It’s fucking dangerous. They could steal everyone’s stuff, take pictures, and they haven’t been vetted.”
“Donnelly vetted them.” Beckett talks smoothly, quickly, calmly. “I’m not going to go through ten other people—half that I’m related to—in order to fuck someone. I haven’t let the girls out of my sight, except for right now. And I’ll clean the room when I’m done.”
Maximoff rubs his jaw, not happy about this. “Please be fucking careful. Trash any used condoms.” He rattles off a few more general rules to keep his cousin safe.
I couldn’t care less, and Beckett notices.
He gives me a look.
Not the iconic you’re full of bullshit face, but a brand new one that he reserves for me. I’d think I was special, but it’s a you-aren’t-good-enough-for-my-cousin face.
I consider myself extremely patient, but I’m nearing a line where I’d like to just snap go fuck yourself.
“You don’t agree with Moffy?” Beckett asks.
“Right.” I hook my radio on my belt. “I don’t care what you do with your condoms.” He’s not my client, and those girls aren’t a threat to anyone.
His brows knit together in that bullshit face. “He’s your boyfriend.”
“And I don’t always have to agree with my boyfriend.” I’m giving Beckett a pass because he’s never been in a relationship, but he’s trying to measure how much I value Maximoff off the wrong shit.
“If you two don’t agree, then maybe you’re not compatible,” Beckett says like he’s charting a pros and cons list for his cousin. With no pros and all cons.
I fit my earpiece in, done with this guy. I can take blunt honesty to my face—and Maximoff likes it, but I’m reaching a limit with his cousin.
Maximoff sends Beckett a warning glare. “Stay out of it.”
“I’m just looking out for you,” Beckett says calmly, kindly, even sincerely, and he switches his hands on his pillow.