Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
I point toward the bar area. “Go. Have fun tonight.”
Willow stares at me for a long, thoughtful moment before leaning in and giving me a hard hug. She whispers in my ear, “I know damn well there’s more to the story, but tomorrow… you and I are going out to breakfast and you’re telling me everything.”
“Promise,” I murmur, squeezing her back.
After I pull out of her embrace, I head for the exit doors, not wasting a moment’s attention on Dax. He can kiss my nearly bare ass.
But then his hand is on my arm again, this time more gently. Jolting, I twist to look up at him.
“I’ll take you home,” he growls as he pulls the door open.
“I can get home fine on my own,” I snap. “I’m not a child.”
“Fuck if I haven’t figured that out with you in that dress,” he mutters, tightening his grip slightly. “But I’m taking you home. I was about ready to leave anyway.”
“Fine,” I grit out, snatching my arm away.
He gnashes his teeth in frustration, but merely holds the door for me. I get a mocking bow as he motions me through. “After you.”
My chin rising high, I brush past him and march out into the evening, definitely feeling cool air on my ass.
I also feel his eyes there, too, and it gives me a small measure of satisfaction.
CHAPTER 16
Dax
The ride home from the rookie party is silent, which is fine by me. Gives me plenty of time to think.
Like why in the hell had I gone berserk over seeing Regan dressed that way? I’ve dated plenty of women who have worn outfits just as sexy and never once batted an eye. Yeah, even got a kick out of other men ogling the half-naked woman on my arm. It’s a source of pride.
But with Regan in that dress—that has ridden up incredibly high on her legs as she sits in the front passenger seat of my car—I’d been filled with the certainty I didn’t want any other man to see her in it. It felt like it should be for my eyes only, and it was a treasure I would never share. As it stands, I feel the insane need to beat the fuck out of Trace LaForge for eyeballing her when she first walked in. His eyes were glued to her tits, and—
I tighten my hands on the steering wheel, feeling like it could snap under the force of my fury.
All because Regan bared her gorgeous body to the world, and I was jealous of anyone else getting the gift of seeing her in all her glory.
And for that matter, why am I taking her home? I could have just as easily waited outside with her until an Uber arrived. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, then I could have returned to the party, gotten drunk on expensive scotch, and fucked any number of beautiful women there.
Except I didn’t want to do that.
I only want to be in this car with Regan—to take her home where I can lock her safely away for my pleasure only.
No.
No. No. No.
Not for my pleasure. She can’t be that to me.
Something great is worth the risk, my man.
That’s what Bishop had said. He’d pushed me to take a chance with her.
I know one thing for sure, though. My cock is on board with that. It’s been half hard since I first saw her in that dress, and it hasn’t calmed down yet.
Fuck.
I pull into my driveway, coming to a stop just inches from the garage door. Regan’s car is safely closed inside. I barely have the car turned off before Regan bolts. She trots up the porch steps, her keys already in hand to unlock my front door. My eyes are glued to her shapely ass as it sways. Is it my imagination, or can I actually see the rounded swells of said shapely ass peeking out from under her hem?
Goddamn her for wearing that and goddamn my cock, which is now thickening even more.
My strides lengthen so I can catch up with her, and I’m at her back just as she’s stepping over my threshold. She ignores my chiming alarm, for which I take a few seconds to punch in the disarm code. It lets her get all the way across the living room and to the staircase that leads up to her bedroom.
“I’m going to bed,” she mutters, raising her leg to take the first step.
“Wait,” I call.
She stops, one high-heeled foot perched on the step. Regan turns, eyebrows raised in question.
I have no clue what to say. She has my insides so jumbled up that rational conversation seems improbable. Besides, what can I possibly say to her? I can’t tell her the truth—that I want her desperately. That it would be selfish as hell to take her, but I might be willing to risk it all for just a fucking taste of her again.