Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Five days. It had been five long, agonizing days since she’d blown into his life. Since he’d gotten a damn decent night’s sleep. Since he’d been able to go more than a few hours without masturbating and wishing it was her smaller hand on him, or her pussy around his cock as he came hard, seeing stars.
Her eyes moved from him to his mother and back again. “I apologize, I had no intention of interrupting. I can come back.”
Fuck no!
He shot up from his seat and moved toward her. “You’re not an interruption. My mama and I were simply talking about travel.” Bryn gestured for her to come closer.
His mother brushed by him and held her hand out to Rosamunde. “Lovely to see you again, Miss Fletcher. Or do you prefer we address you in a different manner?”
“Rosamunde is fine,” she replied, a delightful flush skimming up her cheeks.
“Lovely name. I’ll get some drinks coming. Have a seat.”
Bryn watched as she perched on the edge of a chair cushion near the fire. His mother walked out of the room, leaving the door open. Picking up his empty glass, Bryn strode to the sidebar and took the stopper off his father’s decanter of whiskey.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you, my lord. I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”
He prowled around the seat she occupied, drink in hand. Stopping in front of her, he stared at her as he took a slow sip. The firelight danced over her skin and a low growl rose from his throat as his gaze landed on something darker, more sinister, on her face.
“Hold this.” He shoved his glass into her hand. “Who the fuck hit you?”
Without waiting for her permission to touch her, he gripped her chin and tipped her head up and back, allowing him to see the mark far more clearly.
“Who?” he rumbled. “Did you head back to the docks and someone there did this? Give me a name.”
Her hand curved around his wrist and his heartbeat tripled in speed. She couldn’t even close her fingers around his wrist fully and her touch was hesitant.
Baby, you need to get used to touching me.
“I’ve not been back to the docks.” She guided his touch away from her face, the move quiet but telling. She didn’t want him touching her.
Rosamunde gave him the drink back and folded her hands in her lap once more.
Something cracked in his chest and he wasn’t a fan of the feeling. Maybe she did have the same feelings as her family.
“My apologies,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest. “Didn’t mean to touch you.”
She tipped her head and blinked at him, a small furrow in her brow. “Why would you apologize for treating me nicely and showing concern for a mark that I should have taken better care to cover up?”
No coquettishness about her, just straight bluntness.
His belly tightened at the knowledge she didn’t have any aversion to him touching her. A damn good thing as he had begun to form some plans to do more.
“You shouldn’t have to hide anything because no one should be putting a hand on you like that. But I meant because you probably don’t want my soiled hands touching you. After all, I am The Mutt.”
She gasped and shot up from the chair, her skin flushing a deeper shade, but this time he would have bet anything it was from anger.
“Don’t call yourself that. The ones who call you that are foolish and don’t deserve to be given the time of day. You’re more man than any one of them and the women are just jealous.”
That unpleasant feeling swiftly became replaced by pleasure. Pure and simple. Her defense of him rolled through him, making him long even more to pull her close.
“Your family even thinks so.”
Her jaw set but she didn’t drop her gaze. “My family is disrespectful and misinformed. Don’t take anything they say as worthwhile.”
He moved back into her space. “What about you, Miss Fletcher? This bruise on your face is a few days old. Is this because I brought you home?” Anger grew.
“My mother wasn’t happy with my answer as to why I had been out.” A shrug. “So after yelling at me, they sent me here to ask you for a favor for my brother.”
“Has to do with boxing, doesn’t it?” He remembered the kid.
“Yes.”
“And out of the goodness of your heart, you came here to seek me out to help a family member who stood by and did nothing while another member in that household physically put their hands on you?”
A bark of laughter he wanted desperately to hear again. “Heavens, no. I have my own agenda.”
Of course she does.
He drank the rest of his whiskey and bent close to her as he placed the glass beside her. “And what is it you think I can do for you, little girl?”