Making the Cut (Saving Dallas #2) Read Online Kim Jones

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Saving Dallas Series by Kim Jones
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Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93969 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
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“Cold, babe?” he asked his face now amused. How in the hell did he do that? One minute he looked like he could kill me and the next his eyes were soft and he looked like he was fighting a smile. I shook my head at him, wondering how in the hell he knew I was cold. He uncrossed his arms, and ran a single finger over my arm, tracing the goosebumps that had formed.

“Maybe a little,” I said weakly. I was such a puss. Okay, yeah, there was definitely no way I was going to be able to ignore him or pretend there wasn’t a connection between us. Just looking at him had my panties soaking wet. He made me feel protected, and confident, and pretty, and horny as hell. I figured I must look like an idiot, standing there like a deer in the headlights, scared to death that I had pissed him off in some way, but hoping I had, all at the same time. My mind went back to the time I told Luke, “Fuck You.” It was right after he made sweet love to me for the first time. I was pissed about him making an ass out of me in a bar full of people all because I talked to another man. Well, fuck me he did. Hard. Punishment fucks from Luke made you want to do bad shit. The thought made me shudder.

“Babe?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Luke smirked at me, and I could see his ocean blue eyes laughing. Ass. It was enough to snap me out of my day-dream and remember why I was here.

“How is Marty?” I asked, my voice coming out stronger, but full of worry.

“He is gonna be fine. Got a broken leg and some broken ribs, but the lung that was punctured is healing good. He is cranky as hell, but I think once he sees your beautiful face, he will feel much better,” Luke said smiling down at me. So much for the walls I had built back around my heart.

“Can we go see him now?” I asked, hoping that Marty was awake. I really wanted to talk to him.

“Of course,” Luke said, grabbing my hand and pulling me down the hallway. He acted as if the events from this morning had not even taken place. When we walked by the nurses’ station, I noticed all the nurses eyeing Luke appreciatively. One even winked at him in front of me. Bitch. I wanted to shout at the top of my lungs, “he is off limits bitch” but of course, I didn’t. No sense in pissing them off. They may take it out on Marty.

Marty’s room was located at the end of the hall in a corner. It was much bigger than the other rooms and I later found out that the club had requested a suite for him. I figured with all his visitors, it was probably the best move, considering half the club was still standing in the lobby. Luke pushed open the door, without a knock of warning, and I thought it was impossible to be any colder than it was in the hallway, but I was wrong. It was freezing in Marty’s room, yet he lay on the bed with only a thin sheet covering the bottom half of his body. His chest was bare and gleaming with sweat. I crossed my arms, trying to contain my body heat. Luke noticed my movement and handed me the hoodie. It was black, about five sizes too big and had a reaper on the front of it. It was warm and smelled of Luke and I found myself sniffing it. Loser.

Marty was sitting up slightly in the bed. The pillows behind him a tangled mess and the breathing machine beside him was humming. He had a mask over his face and looked to be in a lot of pain.

“Breathing exercise for his lungs,” Luke informed me from across the room. He had taken a seat in one of the chairs, and was flipping through a magazine. Marty turned his face towards me and held his finger up, asking me to give him a minute. I nodded and took a seat in the chair next to his bed.

Gatorade bottles littered the little table next to him along with a bucket for a sponge bath, some Mamba wrappers and a pack of sunflower seeds. His leg was held in the air by a cable that was attached to a bar that ran the length of the bed. A small weight dangled from his ankle and swung lightly with each deep breath he took. I turned my attention to the T.V. that was muted. I tried to pay attention, but all I could hear was the machines steady beep and Marty’s deep breaths and I found myself looking back over at him. His head was shaved almost bald and his green eyes looked tired. His right hand was bandaged and his arm was covered in scrapes. Even lying in a hospital bed, covered in bandages, he was still very handsome. I wondered if he had an ol’ lady.



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