Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
"You need to ask the Wizard for better jokes. Yours are lame," she groans, making me chuckle. Even completely spent, she has the energy to sass the hell out of me. I fucking love it.
I press a tender kiss to her sweaty chest, right over her heart—the one piece of her I'm so fucking desperate to own. Whether she realizes it or not, she's already captured every fucking inch of mine.
Her eyes flutter open, tangling with mine. The vulnerability in her gaze has me pulling her closer, holding her tighter.
"I never knew it could be like this." She swallows hard, her voice a mere scrap of sound.
I don't think she's talking about sex.
"Never knew what could be like this, Toto?"
"Life," she whispers. "I don't think I've ever actually lived it until now."
"I've done a lot of living, princess. But I only just started doing it right." It's the truth. The MC, music…none of that even compares to this moment with this girl. I brush my lips against her temple, tangling our fingers together. For the first time in my life, I've found something worth fighting for, something worth holding onto.
"Memphis?" she murmurs, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
"Promise me you aren't that guy anymore," she pleads quietly. "The one you ran from. I don't need to know what you did or why you think you don't deserve everything you have. Just… promise me that you aren't him anymore."
I roll toward her, tipping her chin up until her eyes meet mine. "I buried that man the day my brother died, Toto. I won't ever be him again," I swear, resting my forehead against hers. "Not a fucking chance."
Chapter Eight
Kylie
Sunlight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, blaring against my eyelids like a silent alarm clock demanding I wake up. I blink them open with a reluctant groan, still tangled around Memphis. Actually, he's tangled around me, his grip possessive as he pins me beneath him.
He looks peaceful in his sleep. But there's no mistaking that peace for vulnerability, not with dark tattoos climbing all over his body and his hair all wild around his face. He's etched from stone, every inch of him a hard slab of muscle. Lord have mercy, he's beautiful in a way that should be criminal.
Even when I was a little girl, I thought he was beautiful. I didn't know him well. My mother didn't like him coming around. As soon as she found out about the MC, she kicked Jayson out and told him not to come back until he came to his senses. I didn't see Memphis much, only when Jayson managed to sneak by while Mama was working and brought him along. But the few times I did, he was this wild, gorgeous man who seemed larger than life.
He's even more beautiful now. And somehow, even more larger than life. The man ages like fine wine or Tennessee whiskey—both only get better with age.
My bladder screams for release as I stare at him. I squirm beneath him, trying to wriggle out of his iron grip without waking him. I move slow, barely daring to breathe. Call me crazy, but I don't think he sleeps much.
What he said yesterday about Jayson being his brother hit me hard. Whatever happened, I think it still haunts him. He regrets it. I saw it in his eyes. He could barely say his name without choking on it. I desperately want to know what happened to my brother, but I'm not sure demanding those answers from Memphis is the right thing to do anymore. Whatever happened back then still hurts him. He still grieves over it.
Riley didn't just give him a fresh start and a second chance. She saved his life. Making him face it all again now won't bring my brother back. All it'll do is hurt him all over again. As much as I want answers, I'm not sure they're worth the price anymore. Not if the cost is what peace he's managed to carve out.
I slide the rest of the way out from beneath him, preparing to stand. My right foot hits the floor.
"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is low and gritty from sleep, sending shivers down my spine. He catches me around the waist, hauling me backward onto the bed. Within seconds, I'm on my back again, pinned beneath his inked, muscular body.
"Would you let me go?" I huff, annoyed at how easily he manhandles me. And at how much I like it.
"You aren't sneaking out of my bed, princess," he growls, his expression dark as he looms above me, all hot and pissed off.
"I wasn't sneaking out, Memphis." I shove against his shoulder, trying to push him off…which is useless. The man is a freaking brick wall. "Get off, you big bully. I need to pee."
"Oh yeah?" he challenges. His eyes run across my face, one brow lifting as a devilish smirk dances at his lips.