Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 157460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Player laid out the towels and then, restless, dove into the pool, starting laps. The saltwater pool appealed to him, and along with the amazing craftsmanship the builder had displayed in every aspect from floors to cabinets, it had been a huge selling point. Everything about his house had appealed to him, but now, with Zyah in it, the house felt like a home.
He contemplated the idea of a home as he cut through the water with long, powerful strokes. All the members of Torpedo Ink gravitated toward Czar and Blythe’s house for that feeling. Blythe represented home to them. Not the clubhouse. Blythe was their center. They all knew she was. Czar led them, but Blythe was their heart. She had taught them what a home was supposed to feel like and, really, what love was.
They gathered on weekends for breakfast or lunch or dinner. Loud, noisy barbecues that sometimes lasted most of the day, the children running around making them all laugh. Making them a part of a world they hadn’t known before. Blythe accepted them. She’d been the first person to give them acceptance. They hadn’t realized anyone outside of Torpedo Ink could do that—see them and invite them into their life with such complete lack of bias.
Czar had led them to Blythe. Blythe accepted them, and she took in the children others threw away. Children they brought to her knowing she would love what others didn’t. They had come to believe in her the way they did Czar. Player realized it was because of that belief the club members had been able to accept Anya, Reaper’s woman, into their lives. She had come first. Loving Reaper. Who knew that one of the scariest and damaged among them would find a woman who would take him as he was? Anya had managed to make their house overlooking the ocean, the one Reaper had bought just so he could defend and easily escape, into an inviting home.
Then there was Breezy. They all had known Breezy from before, when they rode with Swords, undercover, determined to bring down a human trafficking ring. Steele’s Breezy. She was easy to accept. Player considered Breezy’s home. Of course, Steele had bought the mansion and had kept it practically sterile. Breezy had turned it into a home filled with laughter and love.
Ice had married Soleil in Vegas, a woman wealthy enough to have whatever she wanted in life, but she had eyes only for her man. She took cooking lessons so she could do the cooking, not have a chef. She loved to paint, and she was damn good. Ice was a jeweler, and together they designed beautiful artwork, but she was mostly devoted to her home—and always to Ice. Everything was about Ice. She’d created a home for him.
Absinthe had found Scarlet, a woman who looked the part of demure librarian but who could turn into a sex kitten or a kick-ass assassin at the blink of an eye. Scarlet had virtually transformed their home, removing any triggers that might throw Absinthe into the past. They were never far from each other, and the few times Player had been to their home, it had always felt warm and welcoming.
He’d recognized that characteristic in Anat’s home immediately. He’d woken that first night with pain crashing through his head and Zyah’s voice whispering to him soothingly. He’d inhaled her scent, breathing her in, taking her into his lungs. He’d been in her bedroom, and she was everywhere, surrounding him. He’d felt like he was home. From that moment on, he’d known, just as he had the first time he’d laid eyes on her, that his world was about this woman.
Home wasn’t about the structure they lived in. Not the houses they bought. Not for any of them. Home was about the women in their lives. Home for him was Zyah. It always would be. It wouldn’t matter where they were, only that they were together.
He swam to the stairs and looked up. She was already there waiting for him, her dark hair piled on her head. She didn’t have a stitch on.
“Come get in the hot tub with me. I want to feel the jets on my body.” Her voice was husky, and the way she issued the invitation sounded like sin.
Player went to her immediately, removing the lid so that the steam rose. He took her hand to help her in. She settled into one of the deeper seats with a little sigh of happiness. He chose the one opposite her, wanting to see every expression on her face as he turned on the various jets so they would come at her body from all directions.
She gave another sigh and deliberately widened her legs so the bubbles would be directed straight to her pussy. “That feels amazing.”