Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126148 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She had every damn right to protect herself from that threat.
But even though he’d gained access to her apartment in a way she needed to investigate and prevent in the future, even though he had grabbed for her in the dark and once again had her pinned to that mirror, it wasn’t fear that rushed through her veins.
Not even close.
It was pure adrenaline.
It was the thought that he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
And a little due to the fact that his lips were now only a hairsbreadth from hers. She could almost taste the pot and whiskey on her own. To her that would forever be the signature taste of her former—and soon to be repeated—bad decision.
Did she regret the first time? No.
But she thought it was once and done. That once he pulled up his pants, tucked his cock away and walked out her door, reality had clubbed him over the head. After that, she had hoped he’d steer clear, which would make it easier on her to do the same.
But…
Here he was…
Once again in her apartment. Uninvited.
Only, her body was rolling out the welcome mat.
A long breath hissed from between her lips and she curled her fingers tighter into the waffle-patterned cotton of his thermal shirt at his stomach.
She wanted to demand that he kiss her because the anticipation was killing her. But she knew if she did, he’d spout some bullshit about how he didn’t kiss people he hated.
Or how he didn’t take orders.
Or… whatever.
So, instead of waiting any longer, she released his wrist and his shirt to grab the back of his head with one hand, the back of his neck with the other and yank him down until the small gap between their mouths no longer existed.
In short, it was either kiss him or shoot him.
Shooting him would leave a damn mess and she’d lose her security deposit. It would also create a lot of paperwork.
Kissing him…
Well, that would be messy, too. But not in the same way that blood would stain the carpet.
No, it would just mess with her head. And, maybe leave a mess between her thighs like last time.
“Fuck you, Jet,” he said against her lips during the fraction of a second he resisted.
Then it was like a floodgate opening…
He took the lead, controlling the kiss, controlling their mouths. Making the kiss his own, not giving her the opportunity to do anything but keep up with the intensity of his tongue and lips.
Plundering. That was what he was doing. Plundering her mouth like it was his to take, to do with what he wanted.
And, fool that she was, she let him.
A thrill skittered up her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Making her breasts feel heavier than normal in her sports bra. Making her nipples want to poke holes right through it. Heat pooled between her legs and she couldn’t believe how fast he made her wet.
He was a rude asshole and he turned her on. Somehow, he made her melt.
It was a sickness, she tried to tell herself.
Her own words came back to haunt her. Addicts don’t get sober by feeding their habit.
He was quickly becoming an addiction.
She knew better.
She knew better.
She knew better than to mess with a man like him.
So wrong for her career, for the uniform she wore and for the oath she took.
So, so wrong.
They were no different than oil and water. Two liquids that could touch, but would never blend.
She didn’t care.
He was here for one reason. To get her out of his system. He thought fucking her again would do that. Maybe it could do that for her, too.
Or it could backfire for them both.
Instead of smothering the fire, it could feed it, stoke it. Make it burn brighter and hotter than ever.
That was a real fear.
The first time hadn’t been enough. Maybe Rook was wrong and the second time wouldn’t be enough, either.
Then what? A third? A fourth?
Hand the ex-con a house key?
A sharp pull on her scalp brought her back to their kiss as he fisted her hair at the back of her head, as he ground his cock into her belly, and continued to kiss her like he hardly despised her.
If this went any further than a kiss, she would not be the only one naked. Not this time.
She found it interesting he didn’t wear his cut tonight, but instead a heavy black leather jacket that had no patches on it at all. Nothing to identify him as a member of the local MC. Tonight, he was dressed like John Q. Public, even though he was anything but.
He broke the kiss and shoved his face into her neck, muffling his, “Fuck you, Jet,” against her skin.
She could have laughed over how he tried his best to hate her. But the way his hips were rocking against her proved otherwise.