Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
"This is an interesting one," Roan said, speaking for the first time as he jerked his chin to me, standing there in my boots, leggings, and tee that was not hiding my cold-hardened nipples in the least, so I grabbed my coffee, cocking my arms up, so they hid my chest as I cradled the cup.
"Not what you think," Reeve answered back.
Roan pushed off the counter where he was leaning, moving over toward us, one side of his lips turned up in wry amusement. "Sure it's not," he said, clamping a hand on Reeve's shoulder for a second before disappearing.
"This is not what one would expect," I said when we were alone in the kitchen.
"What's not?" Reeve asked, moving off to make his own coffee.
"This compound."
"What does one expect?"
"Oh, I don't know... leather-clad bikers with long, stringy hair, who grab my butt and try to talk me into a threesome."
"Are you disappointed?" he asked, jerking his head toward the living room, following me out into it where I took a seat on the couch, watching as he did as well, but as far away from me as possible.
Interesting.
That was interesting.
What guy would sit as far away as possible when he could sit right next to a woman who was nipping like crazy in leggings that hid very little, putting moves on her?
One who was taken, maybe.
One who wasn't into women, though I was pretty sure that wasn't it.
One that simply wasn't into what you had to offer.
Normally, it didn't bother me not to be someone's cup of tea. We all had tastes, all had things that worked for us, and things that didn't. Maybe he wasn't into somewhat absentminded blondes who didn't drive or drink milk and who had a ton of animals in her house.
"No," I said with a smile, pulling my cup up to take a sip. "Relieved, actually. My mom came here once when she was my age. Or younger, probably."
"My pops would have been here back then."
"Back then, the stereotype fit, I hear."
"My dad maybe wore leather," he admitted, shaking his head at the idea.
"Did you lose him in that, ah, turf war or whatever that was? My Babcia told me about that. I was with my mom when it happened." Which was good, I would think, since there were literally people with guns in the streets during that.
"Yes," he said, nodding. It wasn't an open wound. It was twenty-some years back. "Babcia?"
"Grandmother. In Polish."
"The old lady who once waved a shotgun at me?" he asked, giving me a small smile.
"Only if you were looking like trouble," I qualified.
"I'm sure I was," he agreed.
A silence fell then for a long minute.
Long silences and me, we weren't a good combination. I don't know why this was. I guess maybe a part of it was that I was always prattling on to the animals at home. And that between Babcia and me, there simply never really was any silence. We were always talking about one thing or another, nothing being off-limits. Hell, I even knew that she and my dziadek had sex in the back of his car long before the two ever married. And that she hadn't had an orgasm until a year after that. I guess my no-filter thing came from her.
"Your brother thinks we are sleeping together."
Yep. That was what came out of me.
"Yeah," he agreed, looking away.
"Is that such a rare thing?" my mouth just kept going, without my brain really being in on it. "You having a woman here?"
Reeve looked back, brows somewhat drawn together. "I'm no virgin, Rey," he said, sounding a little confused.
"Well, clearly," I said, rolling my eyes a little. "But a woman here in the daytime."
"It's not common for any of us who don't have old ladies to have women here in the daylight."
Hm.
Interesting.
I was the only one between us without a filter. Not only did Reeve seem to have one, he also apparently had some guards. He didn't want to talk about himself personally.
"Old ladies," I mused, rolling the phrase around on my tongue.
"Women you are exclusive with."
"I'm familiar with the definition. Also that of the clubwhore. My mother was one for a night."
Oh, hell.
Now, that was just too much.
If my mother knew that phrase came out of my lips, she would blow her lid. She had been crazy and uncontrollable as a young adult, but had since tried really hard to bury all those old skeletons, to pretend she never was that person. I don't think she even knew that I knew she had been with Henchmen in her youth.
"I'm sorry... what?" Reeve said, watching me with lowered brows like he was sure he misheard me.
"When my mother was a little younger than me, she came here for a night. She, ah, she didn't have a lot of scruples back then."