Secret Obsession (Men in Charge #3) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, Taboo Tags Authors: Series: Men in Charge Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
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“Alright, Trace.” Wes already has his head in the fridge, pulling out a beer for himself when our hands finally disengage.

“If you’re drinking, you’re not driving. I’m taking a shower. There ain’t shit in the fridge yet. We’ll go out to Cooper’s for dinner. Tomorrow, I’ll pick up groceries.” They got into town on a Friday afternoon, and the only reason I’m home now is because my foreman didn’t get the permits pulled from city hall for a job that starts next week.

“Thanks. It’s been a while since we’ve been to Cooper’s. How are Coop and Gia doing?” Wes may not have been here for a while, but I make it a point to see my friend and his wife at least once a week. Whether it’s to have a beer with a steak for dinner or I’m over at his house while his wife, Gia, whips up a dinner.

“They’re good. You’ll see them tonight for yourself.” I tip my head at Josie, open the fridge, and grab another beer, hoping it’ll help calm my dick down. If not, I’ll use my hand to get myself under control. “Get yourselves settled. I’ll be out in a few.” I clap Wes’s back and head toward the bathroom, popping the bottle cap as I go.

Josie

“What did you say?” I ask Wes, my eyes moving away from watching his father walk out of the kitchen. The man can fill out a pair of jeans. His white cotton shirt is stretched along his upper body, hugs his tapered waist, and he’s got long legs that walk in a slow, easy gait.

“I’m going to go grab our bags. Make yourself comfortable,” the guy I’ve been dating for the past few months tells me now that I’m knocked out of my reverie of salivating over his father. God, I hope there’s no visible sign of drool because my mouth is most definitely watering.

“Do you want any help?” Not for the first time I am having second thoughts about coming home with Wes. He’s a good-looking guy, more on the lean side than Trace, boyish in appearance whereas his dad is one thousand percent all rugged man. Obviously, these thoughts weren’t on my mind up until a few moments ago. It was on the four-hour ride in Wes’ss car that I started thinking. Heading home would have been smarter, working the full week back at my parents’ realty office, earn some money, and then head back to college once break was over.

“Nah, I got it. Take a look around. This won’t take me long.” Wes’s hand meets mine. He squeezes my fingers once, drops them, and lets out a loud belch, blasting the room with its echo. I roll my eyes. Never in my life will I understand why college boys feel the need to showcase their lack of manners, laughing it off. Unlike when Trace left, I don’t watch as Jace walks toward the door. I blow out a puff of air, wondering again how I got myself into this situation, then do as Wes suggested. When we pulled in the driveway of this place, the outside was well manicured—green grass, lawn mower tracks running horizontally in a pattern showing it was cut in the past day or so, hedges lining the windows along the front of the house. Wes parked beside what I assume is Trace’s truck. Once we walked through the door, I found dark walls, wood floors, and unobstructed views clear to the back of the house. Now, I’m left to my own devices, meandering out of the kitchen and into the living room. The dark walls continue throughout the house, making it dark and moody. A place where you can enjoy a cup of coffee in the early morning as the sun rises or where you want to relax in the evenings with a blanket on your lap while the fireplace puts off heat to lull you into the best sleep ever.

I walk toward the hallway, wondering if I’m sleeping in Wes’s bedroom or my own, unsure of how these things work since this is my first time doing this sort of thing. Each door I’ve come across is closed, only confusing me further. Maybe I should have stayed in the kitchen instead of allowing myself to wander around.

“Josie.” My name is drawn out as the door in front of me opens with a sharpness as if the occupant inside is in a hurry. I’m completely unprepared for the view I’m presented. If I wasn’t drooling before, I certainly am now. My eyes zero in on the rivulet of water that slowly moves from his muscular pec, glides down inch by inch, hitting a solid wall of abs, one slope giving way to another. I count them—one, two, three, four. The crisp white towel keeps it from going further, and I’m cursing myself. I should not be licking my lips, my imagination should not be running away from itself, and I most assuredly should not be staring at my boyfriend’s father.


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