Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35372 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
He breezes out of the dining room, ploppin' his hat on his head. Casually tells the servant in the hallway that he wants pancakes for breakfast. Cackles loudly at himself, or her, or us for all I know.
Then the front door slams.
All three of us at the table let out a breath at the same time.
Like we were all waitin' for him to leave.
"Wouldn't it be great," Savannah says, lookin' at Cash now. "If Destiny, and Colt, and Marigold came home. And Mercy came on the weekends. Can you imagine? A full table. A new start."
I don't expect Cash to say much about this dream of hers, but surprisingly, he does. And he does it smilin'. "Yeah, Savannah." Then he looks at me. "That would actually be pretty great."
"I'll do my best," I tell Savannah. "To convince Destiny to have Colt call ya."
She's just about to say somethin' sweet to me, when my phone buzzes.
"Sorry about that," I say, pulling it out to check what's up.
Diesel. We need you here. Come NOW.
Fuck.
"What is it?" Savannah asks.
"I gotta go back to the clubhouse real quick." I stand up, droppin' my napkin on my plate. "But I'll be back in a couple of hours. Just some business I gotta sort. Walk me out?"
She smiles and stands. "It would be my pleasure."
I lead Savannah into the foyer, walkin' her with our fingers all tangled together. My thumb's rubbin' these little circles on the inside of her wrist, right over her property tattoo. The one that claims me on her skin.
It's still fuckin' weird, ya know. Touchin' her in this house like I own it, like I own her. There's history in these walls. History watchin' us. Eleanor's ghost, the photographs, the museum of it all. And Savannah just standin' here in this marble foyer, lookin' at me like I'm the only thing that matters.
"You sure you gotta go?" she asks, her lower lip poutier than usual.
"Yeah, baby." I take her face in my hands, feel the perfect jaw under my fingers. "Diesel said it's important. Club business."
I press my mouth to hers, hard and hungry. My tongue findin' hers like it knows the way home. I got one hand on her jaw, one on her hip, pullin' her closer, closer, never fuckin' close enough.
My fingers dig into her skin through that fancy dress. I reach down with purpose, cup her breast right through that prairie dress, and feel her inhale sharp and sweet.
Her nipple's hard against my palm instantly, like it was just waitin' for me to find it. I roll it between my fingers, watchin' her face, the blood rushin' up under that perfect skin.
The little catch in her breath that I can feel in my own fuckin' chest. The way her lips part just a bit, same way they did when she was fifteen and I touched her for the first time in that goddamn silo.
I squeeze a little harder, just to see her eyes go darker. Just to remind her body what's waitin' when I get back. A little pain mixed with the sweetness, the way everything's always been between us.
"I know what you're doin'," she whispers, and I smile, 'cause yeah, we both do.
I step closer, backin' her up against the wall. Not rough—I don't slam her or nothin'—just gentle pressure till her shoulders hit the wallpaper. Leather jacket brushin' silk dress, my boots scuffin' the fancy carpet. The heat comin' off her skin like a fever.
I press my thigh between hers, nudgin' up hard against her pussy, feelin' the warmth there even through her dress, through my jeans. Watch her eyes go wide, then half-closed, then hungry.
My mouth finds her neck, then teases the soft curve of her earlobe with a bite, just enough pressure to remind her body who's here. Just enough to make her shiver against me. Her breath catches, stutters, starts again.
"I want to fuck you right here," I whisper. "Rip this cute dress off your body and take you on the stairs from behind. Slap your ass around a little. Make it sting. Make it echo through the whole damn house with your screams."
Savannah presses against me, her fingers dippin' under my cut to grip my shoulders. "And I wanna bend over right here for you," she whispers back, her breath hot against my ear. "Let you take me with Cash in the next room. Let you show him who I belong to while I bite my hand to keep from screamin'."
Jesus. Didn't expect that.
Her fingers tighten in my shirt. "I want you to make me count how many times you fill me up before you let me come."
I smile against her mouth, taste the want on her tongue. This girl. Fuck. She'll be the end of me.
"You're learnin'," I tell her, nippin' at her bottom lip. "Gettin' real good at talkin' dirty."