Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Chick Lit, Contemporary, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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He took a step toward me.

“Don’t come closer,” I warned.

He grinned, because he was good-looking and had a great smile, so just doing that allowed him to get away with a lot in the past—not by me, but others—and he kept coming.

“Bryan!” I snapped. “Do not come a step closer.”

He was nearly to me.

“Dammit!” I shouted. “Do I need to call my brother-in-law to deal with your ass?”

He stopped, his face paling.

And I could not believe, while in the midst of this very conversation, I had to threaten him with Jagger in order for him to listen to me.

“That,” I said softly. “That right there. That’s why all your shit is in a box in the living room. Because you don’t listen to me, and you don’t respect me. You respect Jagger, because he’s in an MC and he’d fuck you up, but you won’t respect me, even though you’ve told me you love me.”

“Hellen, babe,” he cajoled. “None of this is a big deal. I’ll go out now. Grab a bulb, show you how to fix it.”

“No, I’ve waited on you to do that, and you didn’t, so I took care of it myself.”

“I’m good to do it now.”

“I needed you to do it a month ago.”

“It can be fixed in an hour.”

“That’s a month and an hour longer than I’m willing to wait for you to take care of it.”

He started to lose patience. “Jesus, Hellen, none of this shit matters.”

I crossed my arms on my chest.

“You see, this is the problem,” I informed him. “None of this shit matters to you. When you use my washer and dryer, I ask you to get it done and leave them empty. Half the time you come over here to do your laundry, you leave your clothes in my machines for days, and by the time I wanna do my own, I have to deal with yours first, so I can do mine. Have I told you about this more than once?”

“Okay, I see this is a thing for you, so I’ll be on it from now on.”

“Why do I have to box all your stuff and be done with you before you agree to be on it, Bryan? Why can’t words come out of my mouth, you take a second to listen, process, and if you have some issue, discuss, and if not, just be a decent partner?”

“Because it’s just…fucking…laundry,” he bit out.

“First, they’re my machines, and I let you use them. And second, do you ever have to wait for me to clear my clothes out when you want to use them?” I didn’t pause for him to answer. “No, because I get it done and clear them out even though they’re my machines. Still, it’s in my mind that you also use them. I’m doing you a favor, so maybe you could return that by not hanging up my machines.”

He looked to his trainers, mumbling, “My God, this is fucked-up petty.”

Okay.

Um…

No.

“Right. Just leave my key, grab your box and go.”

He lifted his head, and his eyes were narrow. “Hang on a second. We’re not over just because you’re throwing a fit about your washing machine.”

“Yes, Bryan.” I uncrossed my arms and put my hands to my hips. “Yes, we are. Because it’s become clear to me that you aren’t getting this in a way you never will. I’ve put up with it for too long as it is.”

“Put up with what?” He jerked his thumb at his chest. “Me?”

“Your disrespect for me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he blew out.

I stared at him.

Then I looked to the side, took a beat, and turned back to him.

“Hitting my head last night hurt a lot, Bryan.”

His handsome face went soft. “Baby, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what you said the last time I hit my head.”

“Okay, but I mean it this time. Seriously.”

“I heard you laugh last night when I cried out. It woke you up, you called to ask if I was okay. I said I hit my head, and I heard you laugh.”

His lips tipped. “When you’re not being pissy, you gotta admit it is kinda funny. You’re using the toilet, you get up and—”

I cut him off.

“It’s not funny, Bryan.”

His head jerked, possibly at my tone, which was firm but wounded.

I wanted to scream because it took me this long and cost me this many words and this much frustration, and I had to expose my hurt to finally get him to pay attention.

“And please listen to me when I explain all the reasons why it’s not,” I went on. “First, if I’d done something, even inadvertently, that made you feel pain, it would make me feel pain. I would not want pain for you. I especially would not want to be the cause of that pain. I’m not a frat buddy you’re pulling a prank on. I’m your girlfriend, the woman you’re supposed to love. How my pain could ever, ever translate to amusement to you, I have no idea. That’s the first part.”


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