Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“And you know this how? You talk about all your issues?”
Dane inclines his head down, forcing our eyes to lock. “Hellfire . . .Talk to me.”
“I’m not a hellfire now. Am I?”
“You will always be a hellfire. Even if you don’t think so.”
I search his eyes but don’t know what I’m looking for anymore. “Because I’m always trouble?”
“No.”
“Then I don’t understand.”
“You’re a hellfire. You’re strong. Powerful. Independent. You take no shit from anyone. March to the beat of your own drum. You walk the tightrope.”
I shake my head. “I take more shit than you can even imagine.”
He pulls back, placing his fingers under my chin, not allowing me to look away from him. “Then tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s not your burden. We aren’t anything. We just fucked, twice.” My snarky attitude probably pisses him off, but I don’t care. Right now, I’m allowed to act like a petulant child.
He scrubs at his eyes. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Fuck me again.” I shrug.
He shakes his head at my suggestion but having him this close has me all types of confused. His presence calms me, and I want him. I want to touch him and feel him. “I can’t.”
“Please.” I place my hands on his chest and trail them down. I dip one hand inside his sweatpants.
“Fuck. I can’t think when you do that.”
I run my other hand over his now hard dick. “Do what?”
“Touch me.”
“Oh, does this bother you?” I slip my hand under his waistband, then under the material, and palm his hard dick in my hand. Stroking him. He tilts his pelvis up.
“You have to stop.”
“Make me.” I drop to my knees in front of him.
35
DANE
When I followed her, I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t her dropping to her knees with my dick in her hands.
The sight before me has my brain short-circuiting. Her small hand grips my cock, the soft pad of her finger feathering over the crown. If her tongue touches me, I’ll lose my shit.
I’m liable to come from that alone.
Get yourself together, Sinclair.
It takes a second, but finally, I snap out of it.
Looking down at her, I see a Josephine I’ve never seen before. The vision has my chest tightening. The hellfire I have come to know is long gone, replaced by a broken woman.
Sure, she looks the same, trying to sling a false bravado of being strong, but as she looks up at me, trying her best to make me think she wants me right now, I can see past it all.
Her eyes are hollow. Despite her straight spine, she looks fragile.
I hate it.
Josephine should never look this way.
I don’t think before I act. Grabbing her by the arms, I yank her up to her feet and wrap myself around her, cradling her to my body.
The moment her face collides with my chest, the sobs start again. “It’s okay, I have you.”
She hiccups through another cry, then tilts her head up. Her crystal-blue eyes are wet with tears. They look almost iridescent. “No. You don’t.”
Her small hands push against my chest, separating us. I open my mouth to stop her, but I’m too late.
She’s already walked out the door.
36
DANE
What a fucking day.
Being near her was torture. Watching her cry was fucking awful.
The only good part of the day is having Molly back.
Which is the only reason I said yes to Hudson’s invite to go to the bar. Molly and the rest of the team are here. The only problem is, it’s not just them.
Hellfire is here too.
So what am I doing? Drinking alone at the opposite side of the bar.
I’m not much better than my father, am I?
“Are you ever planning on coming over and saying hi, big brother?” I turn over my shoulder to see Molly right behind me.
I arch a brow, and she furrows hers. “I don’t think so.”
“You can’t always be this antisocial, Dane.”
“Sorry, do we know each other?”
Molly’s lip twitches, then she shakes her head at me. “I’m going to go hang out with everyone. When you get your head out of your ass, join me.” She stalks off in the direction of the rest of the team, and I lift my drink and take another swig.
To my surprise, no one else comes over to coax me to join them, which is fine by me. I’m more than happy doing my own thing.
Once my glass is empty, I stand from the barstool, and one thing hits me right away. I’m pretty drunk. Not shit-faced, but definitely feeling good.
The good news is I don’t have a game tomorrow.
The bad news is, I do have one later this week, and being drunk even a few days before can fuck up my game.
The depressing news is that I couldn’t muster two shits to save my life. And therein lies the problem.