The American (Unlawful Men #5) Read Online Jodi Ellen Malpas

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Crime, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Unlawful Men Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 227
Estimated words: 220940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1105(@200wpm)___ 884(@250wpm)___ 736(@300wpm)
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“Try it,” she says calmly, and it’s all I need. I move my hold to her elbow, marching her toward the car, and she fights me with a strength that surprises me. “Get the fuck off me.”

“Your language is foul for a young woman.” Who the fuck am I, her father? I flinch. “And you shouldn’t be doing this.” I take the cigarette from between her fingers and toss it on the ground.

“Brad, for God’s sake!”

“Hey, dude,” someone yells, making me look back. I see a guy coming at us, his face a picture of disgust. I do not need a law-abiding, do-gooder, pillar of the community stepping in and playing hero. Not now. Or maybe I do. Maybe if someone else saves her, she’ll become their problem and do us both a favor.

But—

I stop, pull my gun, and aim it at the man. “Turn and walk away,” I say calmly, feeling anything but.

“Brad!” Pearl gasps, reaching for my wrist and pushing the gun down.

And, weirdly, I let her, watching the guy back off promptly, hands up. I look down at her dainty hand around my wrist, holding it. Feel the heat. Smell the sweet scent of her perfume. Taste the desire between us. Our eyes meet. Pearl releases my wrist and takes a step back, as I absorb every one of her exquisite features before letting my gaze drift across the black dress clinging to her body. Every curve. Small waist, generous hips, lavish tits, shapely legs. Pearl must have a starring role in every man’s wet dream. She’s all woman.

Beautiful. Wise. Brave. Smart. Fiery.

But . . .

Only.

Twenty.

One.

I blink and look up at her slightly parted lips. What the fuck am I thinking? “I can’t do this,” I say, my mouth out of control. I can’t stand the pull. Don’t think I can resist it for much longer. She’s fire, and I am playing way too close to the burning flames.

I turn away from her, raking a hand through my hair, and go back to my car, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine, fighting the urge inside. An urge that I have no idea how to deal with.

Drive away. Leave.

Go fuck Allison.

I slip my car into drive, check my mirrors, and ease off the brake, pulling away.

And quickly stop again, punching the steering wheel. I can’t save a woman’s life then leave her on the streets of Miami waiting to be mugged, raped, or murdered. “Fuck,” I bellow, letting my head meet the wheel, hitting it a few times before looking at the ceiling and yelling my frustration.

No amount of random fucking will eliminate my problem.

I’m screwed.

Pearl isn’t going anywhere, and I can’t either. So what? I must sustain this torture forever?

Beaten, I let my head drop. My eyes focus past the windshield.

My vision is invaded by red.

She’s in the road at the foot of the hood, watching me having a complete meltdown. Her face is straight—no attitude, no amusement, no anything.

Still fucking beautiful.

I’m out of fight. My resistance has snapped. What the fuck am I doing? I stare at her as she stares at me.

I don’t need to tell her. She comes to the passenger side and gets in the car.

Quiet.

Eyes away from me, looking out of the window.

I take a moment, breathe in and out discreetly, clear my vision, and pull out, calmer than I’m feeling. But definitely more settled now she’s actually in my car. The alarm starts beeping, telling me she’s not put her seatbelt on. I don’t know what comes over me. I reach across, my attention split between my task and my driving, and pull it across her body, my face disturbingly close to hers. I catch her eye as I’m pushing in the clip. She doesn’t stop me. She doesn’t protest. But she does swallow, her gaze dropping to my mouth as I pull away and return my attention to the road.

The car is suddenly ringing, and Allison’s name comes up on the screen. I stare at it for a few moments before turning my eyes Pearl’s way, seeing she’s staring at the screen too.

I connect the call. “Something’s come up,” I say flatly. And then hang up, focusing on the road.

The silence is screaming, and in an effort to kill it, I hit the screen on the dashboard and select my recent tracks, feeling her eyes burning into my profile. Feeling my heart smashing in my chest. Bokka’s Town of Strangers comes through the speakers, the track sounding as moody as I’m feeling. Pearl reaches for the volume control, turning it up, obviously needing more noise.

I look out the corner of my eye, shifting in my seat, feeling the heat rising in the car, so I crank up the air con. Pearl watches me. I pull a button of my shirt open. She watches me do that too. Then she turns the volume up some more. I cast my eyes across to her again. She looks directly at me.



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