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)
“Oh?” I arch a brow, my spatula hovering over the pan.
She nods, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Hella couldn't reach you. Got all worried and sent us to play guard dogs.”
Millie wanted to stay with Jada when I left, which is perfect. Saves me from having to gag her every time she opens her mouth.
My eyes widen as I notice the flurry of missed calls on my phone's screen. “Damn,” I mutter, snatching it up from the counter. “Give me a minute, okay?”
I hit redial, and the line barely has time to ring before Hella's voice growls through the speaker. “You trying to give me a fucking heart attack?”
“I thought I was safe here,” I answer, smirking around the rim of my beer.
“You are, but there are one hundred fucking other things that could happen to you.”
I roll my eyes, and Jada laughs, placing her bag on the kitchen counter.
“I made dinner. Should I put yours in the oven?”
“Yeah, thanks, baby.” He pauses briefly and then whispers, “What're you wearing?”
“Hella!” Beast yells in the background. “We're in church! Cut the shit and put the fucking phone down.”
“Shit, gotta go. Boss man is grouchy. Yana definitely is not hitting it right.”
“Hella!” Beast repeats, exhausted.
Hella chuckles. “I'll see you later.”
Hanging up the call, I exhale. “I think I'm in well over my head with him.”
Millie clears her throat. “Mm-hmm.”
Jada smiles. “Probably,” she says, then adds, “but I think it's the same with him.”
I admire her reassurance, but she’s way off. “Probably not, but thanks for the encouragement.” I drain the noodles and point to the bag. “What's in the bag?”
“Oh this? This is what's going to keep us company tonight.”
She pulls out a bottle of Jäger and a box of Red Bulls.
“Jäger bombs?” I ask, horrified.
“Yep.” She places them on the kitchen counter.
“Well, we better eat enough food since you’re trying to kill us.”
After dishing out our stir-fry and putting Hella's away in the oven, the three of us walk out onto the outside porch and take a seat at the table. “It's so beautiful out here,” I say, twirling noodles around my fork.
Jada nods. “It is.”
Fairy lights are strung around the waterhole, throwing soft gold across the water. My chest tightens—something about the warmth of it. Of everything about the cabin. “I would have killed for a place like this growing up.”
Jada stops mid-step. “For some reason, I thought you both come from a nice, normal home.”
Millie goes still beside me, and my shoulders lock up. Nice. Normal. Right. Because that's what we project—two well-adjusted girls who definitely didn't grow up in a house with a father who was fine until he had a bottle of Jack in his hands and then he was someone else. Someone distant, unfamiliar. Not because he beat us or my mother, but just… different.
I force my mouth into something that might pass for a smile. “Nah, the opposite.”
The front door swings open behind us, cutting through whatever confession was about to spill from my mouth.
Some stories are better left buried.
Hella's boots stop on the deck. His eyes lock onto mine with a slight tilt of his chin, acknowledging something unspoken. He eats up the distance between us, and my chair creaks as he leans down, his lips finding the crown of my head.
My chin lifts, angling toward him until our mouths meet. His hand slides to my neck, fingers curling around the base of my skull, holding me in place as his tongue traces the edge of my lips before slipping inside.
Jada clears her throat.
Hella's lips curl against mine as he releases his grip, but the smile fades as his gaze rakes over me.
His shirt rises up over my hip, my legs a tangle of mess, and a primal rumble vibrates through his chest, his eyes darkening in a way I’ve become way too familiar with.
I quirk a brow, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Your plate's warm. Go eat.”
He clears his throat before turning back the way he came.
Jada's face flushes crimson, and Millie suddenly finds the ceiling fascinating, the floor interesting, the wall absolutely fucking riveting—anywhere but in my direction.
“What?” The word comes out sharper than intended, aimed at both of them.
Jada shakes her head, bringing her glass to her lips with a knowing smirk playing at the corners. “That was sort of hot.”
Jesus Christ. Heat crawls up my neck. These two are not going to make any of this easy for me.
My first night at Hella's house was... eventful. We didn't get much sleep—couldn't, really, not when he was determined to test out every possible way my body could bend, break, and shatter beneath him. This morning, my legs feel like someone replaced my bones with jelly. Everything between my thighs throbs with that specific ache that makes walking feel like both punishment and reminder. Raw. Used.