Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Smoke steps in front of me. “Before you ever think about touching her again, think about this. Any part of you that comes in contact with her I’m going to rip off your fucking body with my bare hands.”
Duke scrambles backward and runs for the GrubTrain car. Smoke steps back and closes the door. I take a step back from the fuming volcano before me.
“You fuck him?”
“No!” I toss back. Now, it’s my turn to be mad. I cross my arms over my chest and jut out my hip. “He’s my friend. Or, he was my friend.”
“A friend, who you let kiss you?” Smoke closes the distance between us. His nostrils flare.
“Sometimes,” I admit, swallowing hard. I remain defiant, pushing out my chest. “And sometimes more.”
“More?” Smoke questions, the word is a rumble in his throat and touches me right between my thighs. I press them together. He’s so close now. Water drips from his hair onto my t-shirt. “I swear to fucking Christ, Frankie, I need one good reason why I shouldn’t chase after that motherfucker and paint that ugly ass green car of his red with his own fucking blood.”
“Smoke, he was my sort of friend. When I had to stay away from the world, he was the only person I let in because he was nice and he was safe. He dated all the girls in my school so I knew he wasn’t looking for anything serious so yes, from time to time he came over, brought me groceries, and kissed me. Sometimes a little more. Never more than what I’ve given you. Ever.”
Smoke’s shoulder muscles seemed to relax, even if just a fraction. His knuckles, on the other hand, are still white. “My little hellion.” He brushes my hair from my eyes.
My shield is down along with all the other defenses I’ve tried and failed to keep him from getting to a place he can really hurt me, and I don’t mean physically. Physical hurt is nothing compared to what Smoke can inflict on me now. Because he’s broken through. He’s inside.
And there’s no turning back.
I’m terrified. More so than in that prison cell as his captive.
I try to remain defiant. I stick out my chest and straighten my shoulders, holding my chin up high. “And don’t you expect me to apologize for it, either. I won’t. Duke kept me company. He made me laugh. He was my friend. My only friend.”
I press my flat hands against Smoke’s warm wet chest and a current runs through me, zapping my arm hairs to attention. My breath catches, and I glance up at Smoke. He’s looking at my arms, and I know he felt it, too. I lean into him. He smells like fresh soap and toothpaste.
I remember I’m trying to make a point, so I don’t inhale deeply as much as I want to.
“Duke was there for me. I had nobody,” I say, then pause, rethinking my choice of words. “I have nobody.”
Smoke tilts my chin up. Our eyes meet. The anger is still written all over his face from his furrowed brows to his tight jaw but there’s something else there that looks a lot like concern.
“You have me,” Smoke whispers so low I think I might be imagining it.
“Do I?” I regret the words as they leave my mouth.
Smoke’s answer is pressing his lips to mine in a slow and tender kiss that shakes me to my very foundation. He tells me everything I need to know with his lips. His tongue.
The uncontrollable man is showing me control. I’m lost. To him. To this.
To us.
Forever has passed when we finally come up for air. My skin is flushed. Lips swollen. Pussy throbbing with unrelenting need.
My heart stops.
“I do have you.” I say, running my hand through his wet hair, keeping my fingers tangled within it.
“Yes, you do have me,” Smoke nods. His forehead falls to mine and my heart starts beating again. His pupils are dilated, his dark eyes are glossy. His words lick their way across my skin. He lifts me into his arms, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Now, I’m going to have you.”
Chapter Forty-Six
We’re lying in bed. Frankie’s bed. Some tiny frilly thing that smells like her. Frankie is curled up around me, her leg hiked up over my thigh.
I send the text to Griff.
FRANK HELBURN IS DEAD.
It’s done.
Not even three minutes pass. My phone rings.
“You found him and killed him without permission? Where’s my fucking money?” Griff snaps. “That asshole is the only one who knows where my money is, and he better have told you before you ended him.”
“I didn’t kill him,” I snap back. “The fucker was slumped over when I got here. And Griff? I’d watch my tone if I were you. I’m not one of your boys, and I ain’t a ‘yes man’. I wasn’t the one who killed him. I think his ticker just gave out. So remember who you’re fucking talking to.”