Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I’m not—“ I started, but we both knew I had been.
“What’s the problem? Why not make a move if you like her so much?”
To that, I shook my head.
“What? Say it.”
“Girls like that don’t belong with men like us,” I said, shrugging.
“Girls and men like what?” he asked.
Really, nothing about this shit seemed like it needed to be spelled out. But Coach was relentless when he wanted to know something, so it was useless trying to brush it off. It was easier just to come out with it.
“She’s a good girl, Saúl,” I said.
“And what? We’re bad men?” he asked.
That was a tricky question.
Objectively, no, we weren’t bad men. We did a lot of good. We had a code.
“We’re criminals,” I said, shrugging.
“Seems to me she’s involved in some crime shit all on her own.”
“She’s innocent. She’s not at fault if someone else got her wrapped up in shit without her knowing about it.”
“So, what? We’re not allowed to find women and be happy?” Coach pressed.
“We can. But if you notice, the guys find women like us.” Delaney was the sister of the Irish mafia. Nyx worked at a mafia bar. Morgaine poisoned men for a living. Murphy made weapons.
Even the ones who weren’t directly criminals themselves were a part of the criminal world.
That wasn’t Everleigh.
She had a nice, normal life.
She deserved to continue to have a nice, normal life.
“She deserves better than the constant worry about the repercussions that can come with this lifestyle,” I insisted.
To that, Coach tipped his head to the side, watching me with those intense eyes for a minute.
“Don’t you think you should value her own intellect and sense of self enough to allow her to make that decision?” he asked, then turned and walked away.
Leaving me to ponder that shit all through shopping, pretending not to watch Everleigh baking, me prepping dinner, and all of us eating it.
It was closing in on bedtime, and I hadn’t said a single private word to Everleigh since asking if she wanted to go to the store with me.
I was sure she overheard the conversation I had with Slash about having the HVAC guy in, and then when he’d heard back and the guy said he couldn’t come until the following afternoon. So she knew she couldn’t sleep in there. But I needed a chance to tell her that she could take my room, and that I would crash somewhere else.
When I finished taking Rook back home and went upstairs, the bathroom door was cracked open, steam billowing out, making me figure she’d taken an ultra-hot shower in the hopes of chasing the chill away, so she could sleep in her room.
I wasn’t having that.
But I had to give her a few minutes to get dressed before I knocked, so I pushed into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Only to find her standing there.
Wrapped in a barely-there towel, her hair pulled back in a clip.
There was that caramel/vanilla scent again.
And way, way too much exposed, tempting skin.
And, if I wasn’t completely fucking mistaken, heat in her eyes.
“Fuck it,” I said, taking a step forward.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Everleigh
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
Really, that was the only thought that played over and over in my head after the orgasm fog cleared from my mind.
A part of me wanted to blame sleep.
And, to be fair, I had crawled up over him in my sleep, wanting to steal some of his warmth. I was always, always cold. Being that close to him was the warmest I’d ever felt.
I could even blame, to an extent, the steamy dream I’d been having in my sleep. A dream that had desire pulsing through my body before sleep cleared from my mind and I realized I was not only on top of him, but his hardness was pressed against me.
I mean, what the hell was wrong with me?
I’d… I’d kind of assaulted him in his sleep.
It wasn’t his fault he was having a reaction to me climbing all over him. It wasn’t intentional.
But the way I shifted down so his hardness could press against the juncture of my thighs, and then rocked against him to bring myself to an orgasm?
That was intentional.
And really, really, really wrong.
I’d been horrified with myself as I climbed off of him, then out of the room, glad that he had managed to sleep through it because that would be so hard to explain to him.
I mean, it didn’t make what I’d done any better.
And when I went into the hall to pull myself together, I decided that the only thing I could do was go to him, address it, and apologize for it.
Then leave town and never come back because there was no way to live that down, no chance of me ever facing him again.
I had the door open, and was a step in before I looked to the bed.