Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I don’t want this to turn into a problem,” Beast says. “If you need to get something out of your system, then get the fuck on with it. If I’m right, shit’s about to hit the fucking fan and I need you focused.”
I share the same feeling.
“Like I said, she’s just a kid that needs a job,” I assure him.
“She’s not a kid. And don’t even try to tell me you haven’t noticed.”
“Point taken.”
He’s right. I can lie all I want, but the truth is, Ella’s got my attention.
Worst of all, she’s got me interested.
CHAPTER 19
Lars
When I leave Beast, I swing by the kitchen to see how Ella is settling in. But the kitchen is empty, which is strange, because usually the clubhouse kitchen has the traffic of a main highway. There is usually someone eating at the long table in front of the fireplace, or someone milling around the counter as they drink their coffee.
“Okay, where the fuck is everyone?” I ask into the silence.
That’s when I see a juicy ass and a sexy pair of legs backing out from the giant fireplace across the room.
“Oh hey,” Ella says, popping to her feet and smiling brightly when she sees me.
She’s covered in soot and looks fucking adorable.
I give her a quizzical look. “What are you doing in the fireplace?”
She looks at me like it’s the craziest question in the world. “Um, cleaning it.”
“The fireplace?”
“Mrs. V. told me to.”
I look at the bucket of soapy water and can’t hold back the chuckle.
Ella’s smile fades slowly. “She set me up, didn’t she? Fireplaces don’t get cleaned.”
“Not usually with a bucket of soapy water and a sponge.”
She shakes her head but sees the humor. “That explains why I’ve been at it for the last thirty minutes but haven’t made the least bit of difference. There’s a lot of soot up there.”
“Looks like you’re wearing most of it.”
She holds out her hands and inspects the soot all over her arms and fingers. “Oh yeah, I’m a regular Cinderella.”
She runs the back of her hand across her forehead, dragging more soot across her skin.
“It looks good on you,” I say.
She swats me with the cleaning cloth. “What are you doing here anyway? Come to check up on me?”
“Just wanted to see how you’re settling in,” I say, walking over to the sink.
She holds up her hands. “Looks like an epic failure so far, wouldn’t you say?”
I sweep my gaze over her. Christ, she looks cute. High ponytail. Big blue eyes. Great rack pressing up against her Megadeath T-shirt. Juicy, plump lips curved into a sweet smile.
Jesus, the things I want to do to that mouth.
I grab a cloth from the counter and run it under the faucet, then close the space between us and take her sweet face in my hands. She looks up at me with those big blue eyes, and I see the surprise in them as I start to wipe the soot from her face.
“It’s a test, isn’t it?” she says.
“Mrs. V. is very particular about her kitchen. She’s probably seeing what you’re made of.”
“I don’t think she likes me very much.”
Being this close, I get a real good look at her face. The smooth cheeks. The thick, long lashes. Her eyes are big, and I can see the dark ring of blue around a pool of light turquoise. Her lips are close, and all I can think about is how they tasted when I devoured them with my kiss the other night, and every cell in my body wants to taste them again.
But I won’t touch her.
Not because she works here.
Because it unnerves me how much I want to.
When I dab too close to the bruise on her cheek, she flinches, and I feel a violent rage whip through me. She’s done her best to cover it with makeup, but I can see the discolored skin beneath it. I want to know who did this to her so I can find him and school him in what I think about men who hit women. I’ve broken my knuckles educating other men in the past, and I’d happily break a few more for Ella.
But she’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t want me to, so I’m not going to push the subject.
For now.
“It’s me she’s upset with,” I say, gently wiping soot from her skin. “This is her kitchen, and I hired you without speaking to her first.”
“That makes me feel worse. I shouldn’t be here if she doesn’t want me here.”
“Oh, she wants you here. She’s been complaining for weeks about finding a decent kitchenhand. The last good one we had left two months ago, and she’s been through three replacements since then.”
When I finish wiping Ella’s face, our gazes linger for a few seconds longer, and I am itching to kiss those plump lips.