Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
The penthouse is quiet, though I don’t expect anything else from four overbearing, giant assholes. They’ll probably sleep till three or four in the afternoon before coming out simply for the love of frustrating me.
As I head toward the kitchen, I find myself trailing past the boys’ bedrooms instead. Dalton’s and Sawyer’s are empty, and my brows furrow, wondering where the hell they could be. Not interested in going anywhere near Zade’s room, I wander toward Easton’s, the only room with a closed door.
Surely they wouldn’t leave me here alone. Not after my little performance of following them into Empire.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and before I can mentally scold myself, my fingers curl around the handle, and I gently push the door open to find Easton fast asleep in bed. I watch him for a moment, my gaze lingering on the bandage across his shoulder. I’ve been checking on him as much as possible, but let’s be honest, he’s not the type of guy who wants someone doting on him and making sure he’s taking his painkillers.
I go to close the door when his rumbly voice breaks through the silence. “Need something?”
I cringe and shake my head. “No, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I tell him. “I thought you might have all taken off. Dalton and Sawyer aren’t here, and I didn’t want to risk what would happen if I accidentally woke Zade.”
He peers up at me, amusement in his eyes. “So you took your chances with me?”
I step into the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Something like that,” I mutter before biting the inside of my cheek and letting my gaze drop to his shoulder again. “How’s it feeling?”
He gives me a blank stare. “Like someone shot me.”
My gaze drops, guilt brimming in my chest. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I know you didn’t ask for this. If it weren’t for me, you never would have gotten hurt.”
Easton laughs and gives the slightest lift of his chin. “Come here,” he says, sitting up in his bed and putting a lot of effort into making it look as though the movement doesn’t pain him.
Striding across the room, I drop my ass on the edge of his bed, but he reaches for me and curls his strong arm around my waist, hauling me up onto his lap with my knees on either side of his strong thighs. I pause, staring at his gorgeous face. We don’t have a relationship like this. We have nasty comments and broodiness, but certainly not intimacy. And this right here . . . well, shit. This feels intimate.
His hand drops to my thigh, pushing higher until it’s right up at my hip. “You don’t need to apologize for me getting shot,” he tells me. “In my line of . . . work, getting shot at is just part of the territory. It happens more often than not.”
Reaching forward, I brush my fingers over the bandage before letting them linger on his warm chest. “I don’t like it.”
His intense stare meets mine, and I suck in a breath as his hand travels higher, slipping up to my waist and around my back. He pulls me in, rocking me forward so that my pussy grinds against his hardening cock. “Nobody said you had to,” he murmurs, his lips barely a breath from mine.
I crave his touch, his kiss, but he doesn’t give it to me. Instead, he lets the tension grow, desire building deep inside of me. “You have my drawing tattooed on your back,” I state, my tone low and breathy.
His eyes become hooded and my heart starts to race. “Couldn’t let such haunting beauty go to waste,” he says, taking my hips and rocking me back and forth.
My head tips back, pleasure building deep inside me as his words settle into my chest, not ready to start decoding the secret meaning of why he did it.
He reaches up, curling his fingers around my throat, his thumb stretching up to my jaw and forcing me to meet his eye. “You’re going to fuck me, Oakley,” he commands in that low, brassy tone, making butterflies swarm in my stomach. “Is that clear? I want you to take those fucking clothes off and sit that sweet little cunt on my cock. I wanna feel you ride me. I wanna feel you squeezing around me.”
Need floods me, and I grin down at him. “Oh, I don’t think you’re ready for me yet.”
“Really?” he questions, his brow arching as he slips his hand inside the waistband of my pants and finds me bare beneath. He cups my pussy and without warning, slides two thick fingers inside me. “Because it seems like you’re more than fucking ready for me.”
His fingers curl and massage inside me, and I grind down on them, the blissful pleasure already building. The need for him is like never before. His grip tightens on my throat, forcing me to meet his stare again. “Now, Oakley. Take those fucking clothes off and ride me.”