Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I ran because I loved it. I did it to keep my body in shape. I did it because it was embarrassing when, after my accident, I couldn’t go up a flight of stairs without my body screaming out in agony and my lungs pumping like I was doing a high-intensity cardio.
So, for this woman to make me winded? That was saying something.
I smoothed my hand down her back, trailing one finger back up the length of her spine when I reached her tailbone.
“You made me come.”
That soft reply brought me away from the contemplation of her hips and back. Of how fucking sexy the arch of her neck was and how I wanted to grab all the hair at the nape of her neck and fist it just so I could see the delicate curve.
“I wasn’t supposed to?” I chuckled as I pulled away.
She didn’t lean up, instead staying exactly where she was as her breath continued to come out in shallow pants.
The way she was bent over, still holding her legs while I held her hips, was likely compressing her lungs in an awkward position.
But since she didn’t care, I didn’t move her.
Why?
That answer was the trail of my come leaking out of her entrance.
I’d never seen that before.
Well, not in person with it being my come.
I’d watched porn and seen it, but this?
Yeah, this was something altogether different.
This was my come. This was my woman.
I growled and felt my cock stiffen back to its full length.
I didn’t put it back in her, though.
Instead, I let one hand move from her hip and trailed it down the lips of her sex. When I reached her entrance, I widened my hand and spread her lips, exposing her to me even more.
“Push it out.”
My voice didn’t even sound like my own.
It sounded like some other man’s voice that was much deeper and huskier—not a sound I’d ever heard coming from my mouth before.
Why?
Because she was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. She clenched her sex and even more of my come leaked out of her, falling out of her and trailing down to her clit; I was gone.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I had to have her again.
And I did.
Over and over and over again.
This next time we at least made it to the couch.
I was so caught up in what I was doing—who I was doing—that I didn’t give the man who was now staring at us a second thought.
I should have.
Chapter 12
I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings when I called you a fucking useless cunt. I thought you already knew.
-Baylor to a person whose car he just repossessed
Lark
He woke up early and slipped out of my bed.
I would’ve ignored the pain in my chest at him leaving had he not placed a soft kiss on what he thought were my sleeping lips.
But he did place that soft kiss there.
He also started the coffee for me, took my trash out and locked my door with a key I wasn’t aware he found.
Him leaving without waking me wasn’t something an uncaring man would do.
Then, when I heard him start his truck up and back out of my driveway, I got up and watched him go.
He gave one last longing glance toward my house before he motored down the road, narrowly missing his brother leaving as well.
I grinned when I saw him glance suspiciously at the retreating truck.
It was impossible to mistake those bright colors for anything but a Hail tow truck.
And eight hours later, after arriving back from what I considered my second job, I parked my ass on my front porch and contemplated my life.
I contemplated it so long and was so immersed in my own head, that I almost missed Baylor running past.
Since I was behind a huge fern that hung from my roof in a large, ornate planter, he missed me there.
I didn’t miss him, though. I watched him look at my house, hesitate and take a stutter step, but then shake his head and continue on down the road.
I knew where he was going.
To see his dog.
And that made me sad.
I’d done a whole lot of thinking over the majority of the day, and I’d come to two realizations.
Sal would not own my life. He didn’t get to make me scared enough to refuse to live my life. I couldn’t let him continue to play a role in how I lived based on what he’d done to me in the past.
I was protected. Sam and Free had made sure that I had resources. Sure, Harold was a dick, and he deserved to rot in hell for the number of tickets he handed out, but since he wasn’t doing it to just me, I could deal.
What I couldn’t deal with was the regret. The regret that if I didn’t try to pursue what I felt for Baylor, I’d never know how good or bad it could be.