Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I moan, my hips bucking into him.
“Come for me, baby. Let it out. I’ve got you.”
My back arches off the tub, every nerve exploding as the world caves in around his touch. He groans against my neck, his cock twitching as he empties himself inside me, and, fuck if that doesn't make something primal and possessive ripple in my chest.
His weight crushes me into the tile while the shower beats down on us both, steam rising like we've set the whole goddamn bathroom on fire.
My legs are still shaking. Everything's still shaking. I manage a smile that probably looks as wrecked as I feel, a breathless laugh escaping before I can stop it. “That was intense.”
Understatement of the fucking century.
He pulls himself up on his forearms, water streaming down his face, dripping from his jaw onto my lips. His mouth brushes against mine, soft this time, almost careful, and my traitorous body responds immediately, lips parting on instinct.
Then he kisses me properly, deep and filthy and claiming, like he hasn't just fucked me senseless, like he's starving for it. Like the greedy bastard needs to own this too. My mouth, my breath, the taste of me mixed with shower water and whatever's left of my sanity.
And I let him. God help me, I always let him.
“Mmm,” he groans, kissing one more time as his cock hardens.
I swat his arm. “Perv. Let me out.”
“No,” he growls, his lips blazing a trail of heat down my skin.
“Hella,” I half-answer because it comes out as a moan, and now my eyes are drifting closed, and my nipples are — The bathroom door rattles under a knock.
“Fuck off,” Hella snarls, his grip on me tightening.
“Yeah, brother, we have a problem.” Ripper's voice carries through the wood, and I feel Hella's entire body go rigid against mine.
“Fuck,” he mumbles against my mouth, the word vibrating through me. His kiss turns brutal, possessive, like he's trying to brand the taste of him into my bones. When he pulls back, his eyes burn into mine. “This isn't over.”
The promise hangs between us, heavy and inevitable. His gaze drops to my lips, my throat, the water sliding down my skin. Memorizing.
He pushes up from the tub, water streaming off his body. His soaked clothes stick to every line of muscle as he yanks them on, the fabric clinging obscenely. My pulse hammers as I watch him move, all controlled violence barely leashed.
He rips the door open hard enough to make the hinges protest, before stepping through and shutting me inside.
Huxley Ward has hidden depths beneath that rough surface, but should I fall deeper and risk getting my heart broken, or walk now while I still can.
Twenty-Five
Melissa
“Okay, so it's official then? Melissa isn't fair game anymore?” Ripper jokes as we make our way through the clubhouse. Motherfucker interrupted what was probably the best fucking sex of my life, and it had nothing to do with how rough or wild it was and everything to do with how it felt to have her beneath me.
“Stay away from her,” I snap, shoving through the doors to the Chapel.
“Sit down.” Beast ignores our bickering. “We got a problem.”
I pull out my seat and drop into it. My eyes drift shut as images flood my mind. Melissa beneath me, her body arching, those soft sounds she made when I moved inside her.
I shift, jaw clenching.
My hands curl into fists on my thighs. Whatever's happening between us, no one else gets near her until we sort this mess out. And even after, no one is going near her ever. Even if she decides to leave me.
Fuck.
The thought of her actually walking this time feels like a seven-inch blade lodged in my chest. I'd probably crawl if she asked.
My throat works as I swallow. But I ain’t looking for an old lady, never have been. So what am I gonna do if she starts throwing around demands?
Fuck.
I'm fucked.
My fingers drum against the table. Yeah, keep lying to yourself, asshole. One thing I know for damn sure, those bastards who hurt her years ago are going to bleed. Whether she's mine or not.
“Hella?” Beast snaps, his voice thick. “Thoughts.”
Shit.
“On…?”
He glares. “Are you even fucking listening?”
“No. I wasn't. Got shit on my mind. What was it?”
His eyebrows draw together, deep lines etching his forehead. “Someone has been seen circling the clubhouse. White SUV, no plates.”
“Richard?” I ask, attention piqued.
Frost tosses his cigarette packet onto the table. “Nah. We got eyes on the creep. He's not left Westbeach. Stationed a couple guys at Cyanide & Sugar too, just in case homeboy wants to get freaky.”
I grit my teeth. What Melissa told me earlier still playing in my mind. I could find these fuckers in less than an hour if I wanted, but it's not what she wants, and with this asshole Richard added to the list…