Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134654 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
I narrowed my eyes, risking another look at Hopper. His baby blue gaze spoke of a man who had a lot to give and the intelligence in which to protect what he had.
“Perhaps he should get calling, instead of leering.”
Grasshopper raised his glass in a toast, a chuckle shaking his chest.
Pervert.
Then again, it was us who’d put on the show.
Blushing, I placed my bare feet on the grass. I’d kicked off my shoes a few hours ago and had no idea where they were. I pushed off from Arthur’s lap.
Arthur cleared his throat, his hand trapping my hips. “Give me a second. Fucking hard-on is refusing to deflate.”
I laughed, looking over my shoulder at his crotch. “You started it.”
“I had no choice. Your ass is too fucking perfect in those jeans. I’ve been hard all night thinking of peeling them off you.” His eyes dulled with pain and my desire faded a little.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t you think the pain should’ve lessened by now?”
Arthur scowled. “Well, you picked a good subject to make me lose my fucking boner.”
My heart thudded at his sudden temper. “I’m only worried about you.”
“I don’t want you to be worried. There’s nothing to be worried about. Got it?” Breathing hard, he plucked me from his lap and placed me on my feet. I stumbled forward a little, landing straight into Mo’s arms.
“Whoa,” he said, grabbing my bicep as I balanced. One hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and he’d shed his cut so his black T-shirt showed off strong muscles.
“Thanks.” I pulled away, aware of Arthur climbing to his feet behind me. Mo was another singleton at tonight’s shenanigans. He’d been drinking all night, but he didn’t look intoxicated.
Actually, he looks sniper ready and focused.
He smirked, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “You guys can’t leave yet.”
“Why the fuck not?” Arthur growled, swaying a little beside me. His arm draped over my shoulders—not out of possession but support.
My heart went wild. Was his temper hardwired to the amount of pain he was in? Why had he suddenly switched?
Trying to be inconspicuous, I wrapped my arm around his waist and tucked my hand up the back of his T-shirt.
I froze. Oh, no.
His skin was slick with cold sweat. How long had he been in agony, ignoring his body’s need to lie down and relax?
Gritting my teeth, I said, “We’re leaving.” My voice shocked me with how curt it sounded. “I’m tired and want to go.” Hugging Arthur close, I wanted to help him but at the same time I wanted to hit him over the head for being so stupid. “Let’s go, Kill.”
Do you hear that I’m pissed with you?
I dug my fingers into his slippery side, trying to pull him forward. His large bulk stayed wedged to the ground.
His green eyes darkened. “See, Mo. My old lady can be pretty controlling when she wants to be.” He threw me a pissed off look, but beneath it I detected thanks. Thanks for giving him an out where he didn’t look weak, only indulging a fickle woman who suddenly wanted to go.
That’s fine with me.
As long as I could get him home, feed him painkillers, and watch him sleep, I didn’t care if he made me seem like the worst controlling woman in the Club. “Exactly. What I want, I get.”
I smiled coolly at Mo. “It was lovely spending the evening with you guys, but it really is past my bedtime.”
Letting my arm untwine from around Arthur’s back, I captured his hand instead. The large palm squeezed mine. “Come on.”
“See ya tomorrow, Mo.” Arthur grabbed his cut from the armrest of the chair we’d abandoned and made our way slowly around the fire.
Mo dashed in front of us. “Fuck you’re both so stubborn. Least you can do is stand there.” Pointing a finger in my face, he ordered, “Don’t move.” Tossing his drink onto the grass, he jogged to the Clubhouse and disappeared inside.
“What the hell was that about?”
Arthur’s face glistened in the fire. “No idea. Whatever it is, I’m not waiting here like a trained fucking poodle. I want to leave. We’re leaving.”
All thoughts of having him the moment we were away from the crowd disappeared in favor of getting him into bed and healing. Arthur followed my train of thought. “I’m well enough to fuck you tonight, Buttercup. Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easily.”
Untangling my hand from his, I crossed my arms. “You know what the doctor said. No sex or strenuous exercise until you’re better.”
“We had sex before. Therefore, I am better.”
I snorted. “No, you’re not.”
Anger painted his face. “I don’t have time to be sick. I have a shitload of stuff to do—once it’s done, then I can focus on taking a few days off.”