Wretched Love (Sons of Templar MC – New Mexico #1) Read Online Anne Malcom

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Sons of Templar MC - New Mexico Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
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“I think you deserve to get to know yourself without a man gettin’ in the way,” he said softly.

I put my hand on my hip. “So you think the best way for me to do that is to have another man make decisions about my life?”

Swiss gritted his teeth, clearly pissed. That made two of us.

“Friends,” I shook my head, nearly hissing. “For an indefinite amount of time, whenever you’ve decided I know my own mind.” Fury was palpable in my tone.

Swiss said nothing, just stood there, taut with his stiff jaw.

“From what I’ve come to know of you, you’re a man with a healthy sexual appetite,” I continued, my mind moving. “And for what I’ve come to know of myself… you know, what little a lowly woman could know about herself,” I added the jab because I was pissed. “I’ve learned that I love to fuck. That I have a very healthy sexual appetite. So what are we to do while we’re friends? Fuck other people?”

Swiss’s glare turned dangerous, deadly. “Any other man touches you, he’s fuckin’ dead.”

I tilted my head, regarding him. “And what about women who touch you? I’m sure the same doesn’t go for them? I’m sure the rules are different for you.”

The mere thought of Swiss with another woman made my stomach lurch, and my nails sank into the insides of my palms as I clenched my fists.

Swiss regarded me as he stepped forward so his scent enveloped me, so his cut brushed my body but our skin didn’t touch.

“You really think I’m gonna touch another woman after knowin’ your body?” He spoke quietly, intensity coating every syllable. “You really think I even see other women?”

My heart thundered in my chest.

“Make no mistake, this is gonna be torture for me. My cock fuckin’ aches for your cunt, Kate. My hands are itchin’ with the need to touch you. I need to taste you more than I need to breathe. I’m gonna jack off thinkin’ about what you taste like, the way your back arches when I make you come.”

My knees quivered, and I was impressed with my ability to stay standing. My pussy pulsated with need.

I leaned forward, leaned into him. We were like magnets. There was no way he could deny this. Me. Us.

But Swiss stepped back moments before our lips touched.

My desire turned to dust.

“You’re really doing this?” I groused, wishing my voice was much bigger. Angrier.

Swiss’s eyes blazed. “I’m doin’ this for us,” he gritted out.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, for us, are you? You’re so fucking noble, making decisions for the both of us.”

“Kate—”

“Get out.”

Swiss stilled. “What?”

I pointed to the door. “You heard me. Get out. If you hadn’t noticed, this is my house, and I think I still get to make some decisions here. And I need you to get the fuck out.” There it was, the strength I wanted in my voice. The sharpness. I didn’t recognize the authority in my tone, but I liked it.

Instead of the glare or the iron jaw I expected from Swiss, I got something else entirely.

A grin.

From ear to ear.

“There it is,” he murmured. “There’s your temper. There’s your claws.” His eyes went down my body slowly.

Despite my mood, they left fire in their wake.

“Hot as fuck, Countess.” His voice was thick with desire.

My toes curled, and it was an effort to keep the scowl on my face.

“I’ll leave,” he said. “But I’m comin’ back,” he promised. And on that, he picked up his coffee cup, his cut brushing my hard nipple as he did so.

“Be thinkin’ ‘bout those tits, that cunt when I make myself come in the shower,” he whispered in my ear.

Then he turned on his heel and left.

THREE WEEKS LATER

I had come to discover that I loved the sounds my house made in the middle of the night.

My house.

It felt insane to even think such a thing.

Okay, it wasn’t technically mine since it was owned by Macy and Hansen, but I was paying rent here. Or I was going to be once I figured out how to slip the money into her purse.

But I picked out the comforter. Rugs. There were framed pictures of Violet scattered around the house. Violet, who was coming home in just over a week. She’d had her weekend with Jacques that was ah-mazing and was making preparations to come home.

I’d half expected that she’d announce she was engaged to him. That thought, among other things, kept me up at night. She was still ignorant as to what exactly was going on with her parents. I needed to tell her. I knew I needed to tell her. But I had to garner the strength.

Preston and I were divorced.

Just like that.

Well, not just like that if you considered everything that had happened. But I didn’t have a hand in anything. I just signed the papers prepared for me. Papers that originally said I had ownership over the house, the stocks and bonds that Preston held and a bunch of other assets.



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