Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 169(@200wpm)___ 135(@250wpm)___ 112(@300wpm)
She pours two mugs of coffee and pushes one toward me. “Do you do this every weekend?” she marvels, shaking her head. “Wake up at the ass crack of dawn and run miles before breakfast, then you eat like an actual lumberjack?”
I just shrug and shovel in another bite. “Pretty much.”
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Figures.” She finishes her plate like she’s been starving for days, then starts stacking up dishes before I can even blink.
I help her clear up, plates and mugs clattering as we load up the dishwasher. She hums under her breath, that little wiggle in her hips making me absolutely insane. Fuck. I’m ready to explode, and it’s not even 9 AM.
“You always clean up right away?” I toss the rag aside and shoot her a look.
She just smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I won’t enjoy the day if I know I’m coming home to housework.”
“Run and change into jeans and a sweatshirt.” My voice comes out rough. “And we’ll go for our ride.”
She practically bounces down the hall, all curves and that cocky grin. Holy hell, I’m in trouble. It’ll be a miracle if I make it through the weekend without making her mine.
She straddles my bike like she was born for it, her thighs tight around my hips, tits pressed into my back, arms squeezing just enough to make my cock twitch the entire ride. Every bump in the road is torture. Every damn turn, I hear her gasp, feel her nails through my shirt. I want to pull over, lay her over the seat, and show her exactly how a real man fucks his woman.
Instead, I grind my teeth and gun the throttle, trying to outrun the ache building in my body. I’m so fucking hard I genuinely wonder if I’ll be able to hide it when we get back home. I barely remember how we got there. I’m too keyed up, too fucking consumed by the scent of her skin and the heat of her against me.
When I finally kill the engine, she slides off slowly, legs shaky, eyes bright as fireworks. I want to bend her over the damn handlebars and eat her pussy right here in my garage.
Resisting her is nearly impossible, and I’m losing the battle. Hell, I never stood a chance.
A few hours after we get back from our ride, I’m standing at the breakfast bar. My phone vibrates against the granite countertop, a sharp, buzzing intrusion into the quiet of my kitchen. I glance at the screen and see it’s Savage.
"I’m here," I say, sliding the phone to my ear while watching Serenity in the living room. She’s curled up on the sofa with a hardcover book, her feet tucked under her, looking like she fucking belongs in my house.
"I’m emailing all the info I found on your guy." Savage’s voice is a low, digital rasp, the sound of a man who spends too much time in dark rooms with glowing screens. "In a nutshell, he’s a headcase."
I feel the heat start at the back of my neck, a slow, crawling burn that makes my jaw lock.
"Send it all to me," I tell him before hanging up. I glance over and watch my girl reading intently. She’s got her nose buried in her book, completely oblivious to the world. Every few seconds, she tucks her hair behind her ear, turning a page with so much focus.
Then she actually gasps. Like, full-body, jaw-dropped, chest-rising gasp. Her hand flies up and covers her heart like she’s about to have a stroke. The book nearly slips out of her grip, and it’s so unexpected I nearly choke on my coffee.
Fuck me, she’s adorable.
She clutches the hardcover tightly, eyes even wider now, staring at the page in total shock. A little sound comes out of her throat, some mix between a squeak and a growl. She is completely lost in whatever drama is going on in those pages.
She looks up and catches me staring, her cheeks flushed, her palm still pressed to her heart.
“Good one?” I ask, unable to keep the smirk out of my voice.
She lowers the book just enough to peek at me, all blue eyes and attitude. “Let’s say the main character just made a terrible life choice. I almost threw it across the room.”
God, this girl is going to be the death of me.
I’m seconds away from throwing her gorgeous ass over my shoulder. Fuck. Not the time, Walsh. I take a deep breath and blurt out, "I’m going to make dinner."
She follows me back into the kitchen, hopping onto one of the barstools. There’s something dangerously right about the way she fits into the space.
I pull the ribeyes from the fridge, then I prep some asparagus, focusing on the rhythmic thud of the knife against the wooden board. I can feel her eyes on me, tracking my movements as I work.