Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Rina smiles, pleased at having won this round.
It unsettles me, but there’s no point fighting this when I have so much to gain, too.
“Okay, cool. I’ll get them out of your hair soon.”
I have to bite my tongue.
I hate her smarmy-ass insinuation that Colt is a burden in any way, but I need to pick my battles.
She’s Colt’s mom.
No matter what else she is, I can’t escape that fact.
“I’ll call them over,” I say, even if leaving Winnie alone with Rina screams bad idea. A spitting match with Colt in the house is the last thing I need. Even so, I head over to the great room. The two boys look up from their streaming. “Hey guys. Your mom’s here, Colt.”
“Sweet.” His face clears. “You’re cool with letting us go to the park?”
“As long as you check in. Every few hours at least, okay? If you don’t, I’ll come and find you.”
It’s not that I don’t trust Rina.
But I don’t trust Rina.
“Sure!” Damn. The kid’s too eager to appease me so he can go with her.
That invisible knife stabs me in the heart.
I hate that she’s done this, making him believe she’s here to stay, and now I feel like the bad guy for being suspicious.
“All right, bud. She’s waiting in the kitchen.”
“Evans, let’s go.”
Colt grabs his phone and sprints off the sofa. Evans follows, nodding awkwardly at me as he passes, and we head back up together.
To my relief, Winnie and Rina aren’t talking.
Winnie rummages around in the fridge for some orange juice, then pours herself a tall glass. Rina watches her with barely concealed irritation.
I don’t know what the hell is going on, but seeing Rina flustered like this feels satisfying, like rubbing salt into an old wound.
For once, it isn’t mine.
Then she sees Colt and her face lights up. She smiles like he’s the only person in the room, me and Winnie long forgotten.
“Hey there, kiddo. You guys ready?”
“Do you guys need lunch money?” I ask, sounding like a dick.
Rina’s expression tightens. “I’ve got it covered, thanks.”
Colt, because he’s astute for a kid of that age, glances between us with a slight frown.
I force a smile.
“Okay, you can handle it, Ri,” I say. “Remember, Colt, check in.”
“Dad, I know. Gah.” He lowers his voice as he glances at Evans and mutters, “Sorry he’s so uncool sometimes.”
Uncool?
For fuck’s sake, I never thought I’d be branded Satan in teenager-speak.
I fold my arms and catch Winnie’s expression, which she’s trying to hide behind her juice glass. But she’s grinning all the same.
“Let’s go!” Rina drapes an arm over Colt’s shoulders, though it doesn’t look as comfortable for her as it did a few years ago, back when he was shorter. “I’ll bring him back at a decent hour.”
“Sure. Thanks, Rina.”
The awkwardness feels palpable, but the three of them head out and the front door closes, a little harder than necessary.
I turn to Winnie, who’s no longer smiling.
“What the hell was that, Sugarbee? My girlfriend?” My confusion makes my voice sharper than intended.
Any other reaction would be impossible.
“I’m sorry,” she says, putting her glass down. She’s shy again now that she’s not playing whatever role she had mapped out in her head. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. If I upset you, I’m—”
I cut her off right there, pressing her against the counter with a kiss.
Her hot breath catches, the rest of her words swallowed in my mouth, and she kisses me back, digging her hands into my hair.
With me, she’s not soft. Not delicate.
And fuck, it’s hardly been thirty minutes since I left the bed with her in it, but I’ve wanted her all that time, and it’s been driving me mad.
She’s just as eager as I am, tugging at my shirt and hurling it to the floor, then exploring my chest with her hands.
She hasn’t asked me too much about the tattoos yet. At some point, she will.
Now isn’t the time, though.
The only thing that matters is skin and sweat and stricken moans.
My hands graze down her thighs and lift, hitching her up so she’s perched on the counter. Her legs wrap around me, and she rubs against my erection, moaning pure honey into my mouth.
She feels so fucking good even through my jeans.
When I press a hand between her legs, rubbing her pussy, she’s soaked all over again and so responsive.
I could play this woman like an instrument.
Some notes, I only discover by touch. Every time I do something she likes, she lets me know. Loudly.
I can feel my dick throbbing in my head.
I’ve never heard anything as erotically charged as Winnie’s voice when my thumb brushes her clit or when I let it linger, gingerly massaging her to the brink.
“Th-there! Archer!” she gasps, dragging her nails down my back. “God. Right. There.”
What a good girl.
I keep going, reading her breaths and ragged moans and the way her tits grow heavier against me. I suck her nipples, bite her neck, kiss her until I’m drugged with her flesh, all while she fumbles with my belt.