Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
His fingers squeezed, then pressed my hands to the edge of the counter.
“But…” I started to object.
His forehead pressed to mine.
“If you want to continue this,” he said, his voice shivering across my skin, “you know where to find me.”
With that, he stepped away.
“Thanks for dinner, honey,” he said.
Then I watched him walk away, too weak to get to my own feet to chase him. I mean, not that I would be that desperate. I didn’t think.
Judging by the way I still ached for him, though, anything was possible.
It was embarrassing how long it took me to feel strong enough to climb down off the counter and pull my panties and shorts back into place. And I really only found that strength because Trix was whining and scratching at the door.
I made my way on shaky legs to her, then fed her some leftover steak before taking her outside to burn off some energy.
She sniffed around each pole Saul had sunk. And my pathetic ass was jealous of my dog because I couldn’t smell him.
The cement would need to set for a few days. But Saul hadn’t made any comment about coming back to do the actual fencing.
No.
He said to come and find him if I wanted him.
The ball was in my court.
As I fell into bed sometime later, I couldn’t come up with a list of reasons to stay away.
Just one.
And, unfortunately, it was the most compelling one of all.
CHAPTER TEN
Coach
I couldn’t figure out what was keeping her away.
Everything about her when I left her in the kitchen said she was interested in more, that she wanted everything I clearly did as well.
But three days had passed.
Her fence went up.
So did her hammock in the backyard.
And no visits to the clubhouse.
I worried—albeit after the fact—that maybe Este was a woman who preferred to be pursued, who felt awkward when having to be the one to make moves.
Which meant the only way to try again would be to randomly run into her in town.
“Oh, I totally like woodworking,” a pretty blonde who was in town visiting family, claimed. She was leaned over the island, her low-cut dress making some of her assets nearly spill out.
“Oh yeah?” I asked. I was trying to be present. It wasn’t like me to completely avoid parties. Sure, I often showed up late, cut out early, or took breaks. What can I say? No matter how many years I had to make up for from being locked away, I was about at my fill of partying.
I was at the place where I was looking at my older club brothers, the ones who had women they loved, who were starting families, creating foundations for the future, and I was envious.
“Yeah, you know… drilling… screwing… all very interesting,” the blonde said.
It was safe to assume this woman wasn’t the future mother of my children.
But was that enough reason to excuse myself, to walk away?
I’d barely spoken to a woman in days. I hadn’t taken anyone to bed in weeks.
The interest just wasn’t there.
But was that healthy?
To be waiting on a woman who didn’t seem to be thinking about me?
“Sweetheart,” Saint said, running a hand across the woman’s back. “My brother wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, okay,” the blonde said, happy to give her attention to a more willing recipient.
“Thought you looked like you needed an out,” Saint said, reaching for a cold mozzarella stick off a tray on the island.
“Appreciate it.”
“So, is this what I have to look forward to?”
“What?”
“Getting jaded as fuck and not wanting to take a woman up on her offer to go drilling?”
“When I first got out, I took every willing woman to bed too,” I told him. “I never thought it would get old either.”
“And yet a beautiful woman was standing here talking about screwing you, and you looked bored.” He turned back, watching the woman latch onto Syn. “To be fair, I think Syn needed the attention more than you did.”
A dark cloud moved across Saint’s face. I could practically hear his thoughts. About the years he’d been away, unable to protect his brother as their old business went to hell. About how the only way Syn felt safe was to literally live in a storage unit, cut off from the world just as much as Saint had been while locked in a cell.
When he had sacrificed himself in the hopes of freeing his brother, there was no way Saint could have imagined how much Syn would still need to suffer. This time, all alone.
“He’s settling in,” I assured Saint.
Sure, Saint got lucky with a decent parole officer, but he had to technically keep an apartment in town for check-ins and inspections. He made it clear to us that if we couldn’t find and bring in his little brother, he had no intention of joining the club. So he’d settled in a bit at his apartment. But there wasn’t room for Syn, so he was in one of our rooms instead.