Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I shrugged. “I didn’t ask you to.”
Though, I was worried about it. Not because I felt like what we had was something that should be hidden, but because I’d have to explain to the man that I was starting to fall for his daughter despite my every intention not to.
It was a slippery slope and the more I tried to fight the pull of Reagan, the harder it became to resist her.
After spending two nights at my place, she’d decided that it was time to go home.
Which had infinitely pissed me off.
Not only was she in a tiny cabin with zero security, but she was also away from me—and now I couldn’t sleep.
I wanted her in my bed—permanently.
But I still hadn’t been able to wrap my head around it.
Tara had fucked me up. Made me think the worst, and question things I never would’ve been affected by before Tara had done her damage.
I didn’t like the guy I’d become—this jealous man that was always thinking in the back of his mind that things could go south at any second.
Reagan was a smart girl and she was nothing like my ex.
She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body and I had a feeling that if she was having a problem with me like Tara had been, Reagan would flat out tell me that I was too boring for her and leave.
Yet, I couldn’t get those thoughts to turn off. Couldn’t make myself stop being jealous.
Kind of like now.
All she was doing was eating a breakfast burrito and the men in the restaurant around her were watching her like hawks as she stuffed as much food into her face as she could possibly manage.
Her mouth was opening wide and her moans were filling the air.
My dick was getting hard just watching her and I knew that I wasn’t the only one.
“Are you saying that you’ll go?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Reagan shrugged. “I guess.”
My lips twitched. “You guess?”
“I was going to go do a little research tonight on a certain tree now that the moss has grown back, but then I’d have to admit it to you and you’d know to look. I’ve decided I’ll just do it when you’re not paying attention and take it from a spot where your OCD can’t get the better of you if you happen to spot a missing patch.”
I rolled my eyes.
Then my radio squawked.
“10-13 at Kwik Stop on Main,” the dispatcher droned.
I sighed.
“Be at my place at six,” I ordered, looking woefully at the rest of my pancakes that I hadn’t finished.
There was no way I could take them, either. Not with the amount of syrup I’d put on them.
“What’s a 10-13?” she asked as she snagged my plate and started working on my pancakes.
I chuckled. “Theft.”
She held her thumb up. “I’ll pay. You go.”
Yeah, right.
“Bye, baby.”
Then I was gone, handing the waitress a fifty. “Hand the change over to her. Keep ten dollars for a tip, darlin’.”
Then I was gone, unaware that the women in the restaurant watched me just like the men watched her.
All of my attention was solely focused on only one woman—as it had for the last two weeks.
What the hell was she doing to me?
***
Later that evening, Reagan was laughing her ass off with the men at the table with me.
I was also proud as hell.
The group of friends that I called my own were brash, crazy and honestly hard to get a handle on. They were also very selective who they let into their group.
Reagan, however, had made the cut.
She was the only female in a table full of men, yet that didn’t bother her. Not even a little bit.
After being quiet initially, one of my buddies, Craft—a thirty-year veteran of the Kilgore Police Department—had recognized her and drawn her into the conversation by bringing up her dad.
Which, surprisingly, didn’t upset me like I thought it might.
Instead, I was happy. Fucking happy.
Why was I happy? Because I liked that she wasn’t sitting there, scared out of her mind to talk, because some douchebag made her think that it wasn’t okay to say what she was thinking.
I didn’t ever want her to feel like that when I was around—or even if I wasn’t. I wanted her to feel completely and utterly free to say what she wanted when she wanted. If she wanted to tell me I was a dick head who deserved to have his scrotum skinned, then that was what I wanted to hear.
I wanted her to feel safe with me.
I wanted her to love me.
I wanted her to…be mine.
I was so going to hell.
My feelings had changed in what felt like a heartbeat.
The moment that I’d made her mine over two weeks ago was the moment that I realized I couldn’t hide what I was feeling any longer. I wanted her. I needed her. And I was going to have her.