Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
“We’ll get through this, Nate. Everything will be okay.” Maybe she should try to figure out a way to move, to just pack her crap and take Nate with her. The Cardonas, hell, anyone threatening her or her brother, scared the shit out of her. They might be paid off, but that didn’t mean she wanted to have a front row seat to seeing them.
“It will be okay. I’ll make sure of it,” Nate said. “Listen, I have to get some sleep. I’ve been up all night and am dead on my feet right now.”
“Get some rest.” She didn’t bother asking why he’d been up all night. Maybe he’d been in pain or his thoughts had been too twisted—like hers had been.
“I love you, Renee.”
She smiled. “I love you, too, Nate. I’ll see you next week.” He hung up without responding, and she looked down at her cell for a second before setting it on the table.
She leaned back on the couch, trying not to let her thoughts control her, but it was so damn hard. It was only a few minutes later that she heard the rumbling sound of Mayhem’s Harley.
Rising, she walked over to the window, pulled back the dusty old curtain, and saw him park the Harley next to his SUV. Since staying at his place, she’d come to realize that the man didn’t like to clean.
Hell, she’d noticed that right away, but actually having to live in a house where Mayhem clearly had never dusted, vacuumed, or even cleaned the toilet had made the ick factor kick. So, today she’d been cleaning.
He didn’t own a vacuum cleaner, so that had been out, but she’d been able to clean everything else. If she had to be here for the next week, she wanted it to be livable, at least.
He dismounted from the bike, but his cell went off and he stood there for a few moments talking to whomever was on the other end. She took that moment to really look at him, because honestly, Mayhem was not hard on the eyes.
He may not be classically handsome, but she liked the brutal, hardcore persona that radiated from him. She thought about last night, about how he’d fucked her ass, how he’d made her his for that short time.
She might have been slightly high and drunk, but she’d been fully aware of what was going on, of what she was doing and allowing him to do.
He ran his hand over his dark hair, his bicep flexing from the act. He wore his cut, the dark leather loose as it covered him.
He turned and faced the house, but with the sunglasses he wore still in place, she didn’t know if he could see her watching him. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because she hadn’t moved, didn’t try to hide the fact she was gazing at him.
Even though he wasn’t hard and even from the distance, she could see the impressive bulge at his crotch, knew exactly how big he really was. The memory of last night still played through her head, and images of their sweaty bodies pressed together as he ass fucked her had her pussy soaking wet.
It was crazy to have this instant arousal for him when she had so many other problems, bigger worries, on her mind. But it was like he was this drug to her, and every time he was near, even if he didn’t touch her, she felt the effects of him.
She craved his touch, and especially after last night and the fact she knew exactly how it would be with him, Butters couldn’t think of anything else she wanted to do than be on her back for him.
He got off the cell and shoved it in his front pocket, and for a second, all he did was stare at the house. Stare at her. Yeah, he definitely saw her, and the hard, fierce look on his face told her he wasn’t in the best of moods.
He started walking toward the house, and she moved away from the window, staring at the door. It opened a few seconds later, and he shut it with a resounding slam.
For a moment, they looked at each other, neither speaking nor moving, but Butters felt that pull to him, that intense desire that had all common sense leaving her. She saw him inhale, a slight flare of his nose.
And then this low sound left him.
“It’s like I can fucking smell how wet you are for me,” he said in a gravelly voice.
She felt her pulse race. He was visibly breathing hard, the same as she was. His chest rose and fell, and he moved closer to her, every step making her heart race more, her palms sweating harder the closer they got to one another.
When they were mere inches apart, she looked deep into his eyes. Intensity was reflected back.