Wrong (#1) Read Online Free Book L.P. Lovell, Stevie J. Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: , Series: Wrong Series by L.P. Lovell
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 87961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
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I turn around and squeeze myself between the front seats, perching on the edge of the back seat next to Jude. I turn on the interior light for the back and quickly find the tear in his jeans where the blade went in. I rip the material open to reveal the bloody mess that is his leg. He grits his teeth, and his leg twitches.

“Hold still,” I tell him.

“Don’t fucking touch it and I’ll be still,” he says, and jerks his leg away.

“Man up, Jude. It’s just a scratch. Jesus.” I look more closely at the wound, which is still bleeding, but not too much.

His eyes narrow and harden on me as he bites down on his bottom lip. I know he wants to curse at me, but all he does is pull in a heavy breath and groan.

“Caleb, do you have a cloth or anything in here?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Don’t think so.”

I roll my eyes. Helpful. I yank my jumper over my head and wad it up, pressing it against his leg. He lets out a stream of curse words as I push down on the wound.

Grabbing my ponytail, he yanks my face down toward his. “That’s not a fucking scratch, and it fucking hurts!”

“You’re being a baby,” I say slowly, and he pulls harder on my hair. “Five minutes and we’ll be home. I’ll stitch you up and find you some painkillers, okay?” I hope it’s only five minutes, because he’s still losing blood, and due to the fact that he wouldn’t pull over earlier, it means that he’s now lost a lot.

“What the hell happened, Jude?” Caleb calls from the front.

Jude sucks in a breath. “He didn’t have the money. Again.” We hit a pothole and the sudden pressure on his leg makes him groan. “I threatened him and he didn’t like it. I guess he figured stabbing me would show me he was serious. Well”—his breathing is falling uneven now—“he fucked with the wrong person.”

By the time we get back to the house, the backseat is saturated with blood and Jude is drifting in and out of consciousness. Caleb manages to pick him up, but even then I have to help him with Jude’s massive weight. Jesus, what the fuck does he do to weigh this much?

As soon as we walk through the door, the house is a flurry of activity with serious faces all around. I guess it’s not often that Jude gets stabbed.

Once he’s in their medical room, I’m shouting at Caleb for various supplies. Much to my surprise, they have a stockpile of medication. I inject him with Morphine before looking at his leg. The wound is deep but clean, a simple clean-and-stitch job. The painkillers knock him out pretty quickly, leaving me to stitch his leg easily.

After I’ve cleaned his wound up, a couple of the guys take Jude upstairs and put him on his bed. They flash me wary looks but leave the room when Caleb ushers them out. They still don’t trust me, and I don’t trust them. Maybe they think I’m going to kill Jude. A couple of weeks ago I might have, but now...now things are different. Twisted. Warped. Wrong, maybe, but I won’t kill him.

Caleb squeezes my shoulder once before leaving the room. At least he trusts me. Jesus, if I was going to kill him I would have done it by now. Okay, so there was the time I held a razor to his throat in his sleep, but, well, we know how that ended.

I cover him with the duvet before heading to the bathroom.

“Tor.”

I spin around. His eyes are half-open, and his head is turned on the pillow.

“Are you okay?” I ask quickly, worried that he’s in pain.

He smiles and pats the bed next to him. “Come sleep.” His voice is slurred, and he sounds drunk.

“I just need to wee, and then I’ll come to bed.”

“Wee.” He laughs, impersonating a British accent, which he still sucks at. “You sound so girly...and British.” This is so not Jude, the drugs must be working a treat.

I shake my head and go to the bathroom, leaving him chuckling to himself.

When I get back his eyes are shut and I think he’s asleep, until I get into bed.

“You’re back.” He smiles and swats at me.

I sit on the bed with my back to the pillows. “I’m back.” I have to force the giggle down my throat.

He twists his head to the side and looks up at me, pinching a stray piece of hair that’s fallen over my shoulder.

“So pretty, Tor. Pretty and innocent and British.” I try hard not to smile, because never in my wildest dreams did I ever think Jude could be cute, but he is so bloody cute when he’s drugged up. “You have a sexy voice.” He grins at me.



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