Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Chapter Eleven
Huck
So, she wasn't the most elegant of riders.
I was glad I'd decided to teach her on one of the pieces of crap we had stored in the shed, because the first time she revved the engine, she panicked and the bike flew forward without her on it.
It took four more tumbles before she finally got brave enough to handle the thing, doing quick little surges forward then letting out shrieking noises and braking hard.
"Is she getting worse?" McCoy asked, moving in at my side as Harmon took a few slow, deep breaths before dropping her ass onto the seat again.
"She just might be," I admitted, wincing when she accelerated so hard she almost fell off the bike. "I know why you're here," I added, leaning back against the wall of the house. "And it's none of your business."
"Not saying it is," McCoy said, leaning next to me.
"Then what are you here to say?"
"That I don't care who you fuck, date, or give a ring to. But you need to keep your head in the game," he told me, shrugging. "I've heard from Arty five times since yesterday morning because he couldn't get in touch with you."
"Careful," I said, not liking his insinuation, even if he was right; I was getting distracted.
I thought that once I fucked her, I would get her out of my system. That was usually how it worked for me.
I'd woken up alone, feeling disoriented for a second, the mostly-unconscious part of me thinking it was just a good dream. But then my eyes moved around, finding her computer set up at the side of the room, her shoes scattered on the floor behind the door.
Not a dream.
And my first thought after that was one I was still trying to come to terms with.
Thank fuck.
I'd gotten up, taken a shower, finding it overtaken with girl shit. Her shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and shaving cream. There was even one of those fucking stone things chicks use on their feet up on the side.
And, what's more, I didn't hate seeing all of it there.
I didn't even mind the cluttered counter next to the sink as I brushed my teeth before grabbing something to throw on before heading downstairs to see where she was.
Where did I find her?
In the kitchen.
Cooking breakfast.
And I'm not talking about tossing an egg in a pan and giving me some burnt toast to go with it.
No, this woman was pulling out all the stops. French toast, breakfast potatoes, omelets, and bacon.
"Seeley is going to start resenting me being here," she told me when I walked up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she flipped a slice of French toast.
"No, he won't."
"I made him run out to the store again today to get all this," she said, sounding apologetic.
"Well, he'll get to eat some, won't he?" I asked, leaning down to press my lips into the column of her neck.
"Yeah, but..." she started to object before I shifted my hips forward, grinding my cock against her ass. Had you told me a month ago that watching a woman cook me breakfast would get me hard, I'd have laughed in your face. But here we were. "Huck..."
"Mmm?" I asked, hand sliding down her hip, slipped between her thighs.
"The others are all awake," she objected, voice getting breathless when I found her clit.
"I don't give a fuck."
"I'm... I'm cooking," she said, her head falling back on my shoulder.
"That's an excuse I'll accept," I decided, my hand moving from between her legs, grabbing her around the throat instead, turning her just enough so my lips could claim hers for a minute, just long enough that her gaze was a little hazy when I pulled away. "Don't burn the French toast, babe," I'd said as I moved away. "And you don't need to feel guilty about having Seeley do things," I told her, going for the coffee pot. "That's his job. Do what we tell him."
"Yeah, but I'm not one of you guys," she said, tossing the French toast into what looked like a big stack in the warm oven.
"You're here because I want you here. That's just about the same thing. Don't worry about Seeley. We pay him for what he does."
"Yeah, but he's been shot and gotten a head injury recently. He never gets a break."
"He wants to work as hard as he does. You've never seen any of us cracking whips around here."
"I know. I just hate piling on. But, I figure, I am repaying him with food. You guys seem to live on take-out and hamburgers."
"You worried about me, babe?"
She'd paused at that, trying to find a comeback to that. "Well, seeing as you guys are keeping me alive, I guess I have a vested interest in keeping you all well for the time being."