Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77118 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
He just didn’t seem to want them.
He was, I dunno, traditional, or some shit. He wanted a wife, not a fuck-buddy.
“Yeah, okay,” I scoffed, tipping the drink again without thinking. “Why the fuck did I do that?” I hissed, getting up to throw the drink away, then swishing some water around in my mouth.
“Is this about Ny—“ Detroit started, making my stomach drop.
How the fuck did he know about Nyx?
No one was supposed to know.
Her rules, not mine.
And we only fucked out of town.
Well, usually.
“Keep fucking pestering me and I’m gonna walk up there and tell Ev that you think she has a nice ass,” I said, watching as Detroit’s jaw got tight. “That’s what I thought,” I said, nodding and moving away from him.
He’d driven us in with the SUV, but I decided to walk my ass home, and try to tire myself out more so I could pass right out after a shower.
I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with me. I wasn’t the kind of guy to obsess over shit, to not be able to turn my brain off.
I also had never been someone who couldn’t get a woman off his mind.
True, it wasn’t exactly easy for me to find women to spend time with. I got it. I looked like bad news. And not just in the ‘oh, he’s an outlaw biker’ kind of way. Which most women dug, evidenced by how much pussy Sway and the others got when they wanted to.
I knew that the scars were scary to women who didn’t know how I got them, who didn’t want to be close to someone who’d possibly been involved with that much violence.
I couldn’t blame them.
If I was in their shoes, I’d steer the fuck away from me too.
So, yeah, I wasn’t used to having women around to get stuck in my head.
Maybe that was all it was.
Nyx had been the only chick to stick around for any length of time.
Even as I tried to tell myself that, though, I knew it wasn’t true. Because I didn’t obsess over her back when shit was new. When we really didn’t know each other. When all we did was share a sweaty hour or two.
It was something that had built over time.
As I got to know her.
As I spent more time with her.
And as, I guess, some part of me wanted her. Or, more precisely, wanted more of her.
There was no denying. And if I were being honest, that shit had been developing for the better part of a year.
Maybe it never would’ve happened if she wasn’t a part of my life. If she wasn’t at the bar we went to. If she didn’t show up at the clubhouse, looking softer and sweeter, holding babies, giving some part of me ideas.
But, yeah, I fucking gave a shit.
I wanted in.
And she was so goddamned determined to keep me out.
I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I guess I just thought shit was different between us, that she saw past the superficial shit.
I didn’t want to shut shit down. It was the last fucking thing I wanted.
I probably never would have done it if she hadn’t gone all soft and sweet with me after we’d fucked in that alley.
Giving me hope.
Then pushing me away again.
I had a temper and when I did, I didn’t exactly think my words through. So I spit that shit at her then walked away.
I got maybe to the corner of the building before I regretted them, before I wanted to turn back, tell her I didn’t mean it, that I wanted to keep having our hook-ups.
A little Nyx was damn sure better than none.
I had gone back too.
But she was gone.
Then I’d walked my ass home and stewed in what happened all night, trying to think of a way I could take those words back.
Unfortunately, though, I didn’t come up with shit.
See, I didn’t know all of Nyx’s secrets. The shows she binged watched, what she stuffed her face with on a bad day, what songs really cut her deep.
But I did know she had a fuckton of pride and walls that stretched up sky-high.
She wasn’t going to text me for sex. And she damn sure wasn’t going to show up at my door and confess all her dirty little secrets.
Hell, I’d be fucking lucky if she would even serve me again at the bar.
“Cat,” I said, coming in the door to have the grayish cat with blue eyes hop down from where he was sunning in the windowsill and rubbing himself against my legs.
“Sure, love on him. When I was the one who remembered to feed you this morning,” Delaney said, giving the cat small eyes. “Did Detroit strand you at the gym?” she asked when she looked out front and didn’t see the SUV.