Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
For a moment, he just stares at me, then he moves around the counter quickly, storming over, spinning my stool around. and pinning me with his body against the counter when he gets close enough. He leans down, so our faces are close, and for a moment, I just stare up at him, mouth slightly agape, not really knowing what it is I should be doing right now.
“Listen to me, woman,” he growls, and I can smell the beer on his breath, mixed with the smell of him, and it only turns me on. “Do not ever fuckin’ speak to me like that again. I’m not a fuckin’ boy. I don’t play fuckin’ games.”
Of course that’s all he heard. Proud biker assface.
“Firstly, fuck you, again,” I challenge holding his eyes. “I’m not going to back down, not from you, not from anyone. I say what I have to say, I couldn’t give a damn if you like it or not. You judged me then, without cause. And I don’t appreciate it. At all. There is also the fact that you think you can come here, and intimidate me into doing what you want. You can’t. I’m not the kind of girl who will bend to your wishes just because you use all that sexy, biker power on me.”
His eyes flash, but not in anger now, in lust.
And dammit. I want him.
But this always happens. We look at each other like this, sparks fly, and then we fuck. And it’s good fucking, deep fucking, but it makes me feel miserable after it. When I woke up after staying the night at Mason’s, remembering how he fucked me against my car, I felt like shit. I felt stupid, and weak, because I gave in to him and I shouldn’t have. I let my body, and in all fairness, my drunken mind, do the talking for me.
But I can’t do that anymore.
I deserve to be someone’s first and only choice.
I deserve that.
At least, that’s what I have to tell myself over and over to keep away from Boston.
“There is somethin’ about you that drives me fuckin’ wild, in a way I’ve never been driven before,” he growls, hand moving around to clutch my hip. It makes fire erupt in my belly, and I want him, more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
But I won’t be anyone’s little toy.
“And yet,” I whisper. “It just isn’t enough.”
With that, I slip out from the confines of his arms, duck so I can get underneath him, and walk away.
It nearly kills me.
But giving in. That would hurt a whole lot more.
A whole lot more.
~12~
NOW – BOSTON
Fuck.
God dammit.
Kills me when she walks off down the hallway. Fucking nearly kills me. She strong, and she’s feisty, and she sparks something to life in me. Something that has been long dead. I can’t seem to stay away from her. No matter how hard I fucking try. My body craves her. My mind craves her. And I’m starting to wonder if she’s been the choice all along.
But then I think of Penny, and my heart twists.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I wish I could understand what in the ever loving fuck is going on in my mind right now, but I don’t. I can’t make sense of it. I’m drawn to Chantelle, without a doubt, probably more so than Penny. I like the fire, and the spark, and the way she challenges me. She makes me feel alive. But when I think of Penny, my heart softens, and I feel protective, and kissing her made me feel like I was home, and that fucked with my head.
They’re fucking with my head.
Only, they’re not doing anything.
I’m doing it to myself and that’s even worse.
But I owe Chantelle a fuck of a lot more than to judge her because of the way she comes across. And that’s exactly what I just did, which was fucked. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s been a solid for me since the moment we started talking, and she’s always been there when I needed her. One way or another.
Can’t be treating her like shit because I can’t make sense of my own fucking feelings.
I finish up dinner and put it on two plates just as she returns to the kitchen, holding my eyes, her fire not even close to being dimmed. Nothing dims her shine, fucking nothing. She’s strong, stronger than people give her credit for I’m sure. She rarely lets anything get the better of her, and fear never shows in her eyes. She’s rock solid, and that’s a hard thing to come by in a woman. A fucking hard thing.
She stops and stares at the food on the plates, then looks to me. “This looks great.”
And that makes her even better. That right fucking there. She’s hurting, I know she is, and she’s angry, but she puts it aside and steps up. She holds her own. She doesn’t carry on or complain. That takes a hell of a lot, and my respect for her just went up.