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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“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yells, and scrambles to cover herself with the torn pieces of the shirt.

“I’m done fucking around with you, so take off your clothes and clean your ass up!” I say as I raise a brow at her.

She glares at me, angry, hateful.

“Do it. Now!”

“I’ll take a shower...if you get out.” She’s glaring at me through the wet strands of hair covering her face.

I shake my head and grin. “I don’t think so. I step outta here and who knows what sort of trouble you’ll get into.” I lean against the shower wall, purposefully letting my eyes roam over her. I need her to feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. I have to break her down.

“There are no windows in here. I can’t go anywhere except the door, which you can stand on the other side of.”

Steam from the shower billows up toward the ceiling. She’s trying her best to cover herself, but all she’s managing to do is squeeze those fucking breasts of hers together and up, almost like a corset. I watch the water trickle between her cleavage, then down the rest of her body. The heat is flushing the exposed, pale skin of her stomach. Her matted, honey-blonde hair is sticking to her neck and shoulders. She looks fucking sexy as hell like that. I shouldn’t be getting so turned on by this, but damn, my cock doesn’t have morals.

“Just do as you’re told for once, woman, damn!” I’m done. I can’t help but think about how good it would feel to pin her up against the wall and fuck the shit out of her. This needs to stop. I need to get the hell out of here.

I shake my head, closing my eyes for a second. “Just take off your damn clothes and take the shower.” I grab her tattered shirt and shred it even more, then yank it down her shoulders. The soaked material drops to the shower floor, and I grab the waist of the shorts she’s wearing. She hits me and screams, but that doesn’t faze me. “It’s not like I’ve never seen a fucking woman naked, and it’s not like I’m doing this to get off. I can’t trust you,” I say. She beats at me with her fists and causes me to lose my balance. Out of instinct, I grab onto her, my hands slipping over her wet, tight thighs. She falls silent, completely freezing in place. Quickly, she shoves the shorts the rest of the way down her legs.

Her arms tighten around her and she hunches over a little. She tries to hide her face from me, but I can still see it crumple before she peers up at me briefly. The moment her eyes meet mine, they squeeze closed.

I do feel a little guilty for doing this to her, but she really needs to learn not to test me. I reach into the shower and wrap my hand around the back of her slick neck. She flinches. Placing my lips on her ear, I growl, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

I feel her cower under my touch. “Please,” she pleads, her voice breaking.

I skim my fingers over her skin before I let my hand fall from her neck, and there’s a deafening silence.

The splatter of the water against the tiles and the frantic sound of her quickening breaths seem so loud in this moment. I stare at her. Her eyes are still closed, her hands trying desperately to cover herself. I can tell she’s fighting back the urge to cry. I watch the droplets of water bead and roll down her cheek, down her neck. Her pulse is visibly thumping in her throat.

Could this woman possibly be trying to fuck me over? She’s gone from terrified to outright crazy, and now she’s hiding in a corner afraid again. She has no idea what she’s doing.

What the hell am I doing?

I stumble back a few steps and watch her tiny form crammed in the corner, trying to hide from the crazed lunatic that put her there. I need to leave her alone so I can go punch my fist through a wall.

“Just take the fucking shower. I’ll be over there.” I point to the long granite countertop. “I won’t look at you, but I’m not leaving you alone.”

Her eyes remain trained on the shower floor as I back away, carefully shutting the glass door behind me.

I take a towel from the closet and drop it onto the mat, then lean against the sink like I promised. She’s right, I could just wait outside, but I know now not to underestimate her. It’s her dignity or mine.

Why in the hell does shit like this have to happen? I catch a glimpse of the shower in the mirror. I can’t see her through the fogged-up glass, but I can make out the outline of her body and I force myself to look away. Two minutes ago she was looking at me like a fucking rapist, and now here I am getting aroused from a fucking silhouette of her. Primal instinct is a bitch.


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