Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)
Nope.
They were pushing against it.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Nate and I agreed not to see other people. I’m still with him.”
“If you’re with Nate, why the fuck wasn’t he here when you needed him?”
London closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Unfortunately that forced her breasts up and into my chest. I thought my cock might actually explode, and not because I blew my wad. Nope, it might split from the sheer volume of blood trapped in there.
“He and I need to talk,” she said, and I growled. Talk? She looked almost as frustrated as I felt. I rotated my hips into hers one more time, both of us gasping in need.
“Fuck that. Your cunt wants me inside as bad as my cock wants in.”
“I don’t like that word.”
“I don’t like Deputy Dick,” I growled. “But you don’t see me putting a bullet in him, do you? Stop bitching and let me fuck you.”
Her eyes narrowed and she shoved at my shoulders, hard. I rolled off her, chest heaving as I tried to make my brain work. Almost impossible, what with the complete lack of available blood. My cock throbbed. Literally. I felt each pulsing heartbeat hit it like a sledgehammer.
I wanted to kill her. Fuck her, then kill her. Then kill Nate Evans for putting me through this. Teach that cocksucker to move in on a Reaper’s woman.
“I’m really sorry that I got drunk and made an idiot of myself,” London said after a long pause. “You didn’t deserve that.”
“Damned straight.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Blow job would be nice.” Throw in a fifth of vodka and a pole dance and maybe I’d reconsider killing her … but I wouldn’t be happy until I’d split her cunt wide open. I slammed my fist down on the bed. Fuck!
She squeaked. Like a mouse. It was cute, which pissed me off even more.
“Anything else?”
“No, I think you’ve done enough,” I said, closing my eyes and trying to think of something—anything—to distract me from the pain between my legs.
“It was really nice of you to come over and bring me dinner.”
Nice.
Fucking bitch thought I was nice. If she thanked me for being her friend, it was over. I’d have to go on a killing spree.
I gotta get out of here.
Jackknifing off the bed, I stalked out into the living room, looking for my keys. They were on the kitchen counter, right next to the empty take-out containers. She could buy her own fucking dinner and cry alone next time.
I heard her bare feet padding up behind me.
“So I guess this probably means our deal is off?”
Her voice sounded uncertain, almost scared. Still a little slurred, too. I turned to glare at her, taking in her tangled blonde hair, the curve of her generous hips in those tight jeans, and the way her shirt drooped low enough to show plenty of cleavage.
“Not if you want to keep the club accounts,” I growled, wondering why the hell I didn’t just fire her ass. My cock reminded me that we weren’t finished with her yet. “I’ll see you out at my place on Tuesday. Make enough food for leftovers and maybe we’ll have a talk about getting a crew into The Line.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Eat shit,” I said, and then slammed out the door.
Seems like a bit of an overreaction, Heather gloated as I climbed into my truck.
She could eat shit, too. Fucking women. Even dead, they stuck together.
CHAPTER SIX
LONDON
“So, where does this leave us?” Nate asked me Monday night. We sat at a table in the back of the restaurant¸ where the light hardly reached and the flickering of candlelight was supposed to make everything look romantic. Instead it felt claustrophobic and damning.
“Honestly? I’m not sure.”
“I know you needed me and I wasn’t there. Do you think you can forgive me?”
I sighed, wondering whether it mattered.
So he hadn’t been there for me. I resented that. But he’d had to work, and in his defense he dealt with runaways all the time. From his perspective, this was probably a pretty good outcome. She was with a family member, not kidnapped and murdered by a serial killer.
That wasn’t even the real issue, though. I’d been hot as hell for Reese Hayes, whether I liked to admit it or not. Nate and I had decided to make things exclusive—then I crawled all over another man.
What kind of person does that?
Not a woman who’s in love. Or even infatuated … And if I’d fallen out of infatuation in less than two months, that was pretty much it for me and Nate. Both of us deserved better, although I hadn’t decided what that should look like. It’d been fourteen years since I lived on my own. Was that why I’d been so eager to hook up with Nate? Fear of being alone?