Fearless Like Us (Like Us #9) Read Online Krista Ritchie, Becca Ritchie

Categories Genre: Contemporary, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: , Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
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Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 168980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 845(@200wpm)___ 676(@250wpm)___ 563(@300wpm)
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“I fucking like that actually.” She watches as I pull on my shorts. “Do you think you’ll go into detail about coming on me?”

I look her up and down, but her body language isn’t letting anything through. “Do you want me to?”

Her eyes flit to the ceiling in thought. “I guess it’d be kind of hot knowing you told him about coming on my tits. And vice-versa.”

My brows shoot up. “He came on your tits?”

“Oh, fuck. No. I meant hypothetically.”

I smile. “Hypothetically, yeah, that’d be hot.” I do get off imagining Banks and her together. I get off even more seeing it. I’m aware of my turn-ons more than I was. And I know Banks feels the same.

I’m about to mention this, but the worst fudging sound cuts into Mozart and our hot and sweet moment.

A phone chime.

My phone, to be exact.

Sulli cranes her neck, eyeing my cellphone on the mats.

I glare at it.

“You should see who it is,” Sulli encourages. “It’s probably important, seeing as how you’re a very important person.”

“You’re the VIP of my life.” I lean back down over Sulli to kiss her lightly. “Can’t keep trying to turn that one back around on me, Sul.”

“Sure I can.” Her tenacity swells my lungs.

The chime sounds again, alerting me of the same missed message.

I give her a soft, apologetic smile. “Hold on.” Sitting up off Sulli, I reach for my phone and grab the cell.

She props herself on her forearms.

For a second, I panic thinking Price heard about my relationship with my client. Today is not the day that I want to go to war with Daisy Calloway’s bodyguard, who also owns Triple Shield.

As soon as I skim the text, I relax knowing it’s not about security. Our news hasn’t reached the Cobalt brothers (besides Beckett) or Triple Shield yet.

“Who is it?” Sulli asks.

“My mom.” I read the text out loud, “Everything good here. Don’t worry.”

Worry crests her eyes. “Has she been doing alright?”

“As far as I know.” I spot goosebumps on Sulli, and I grab the nearest article of clothing. My shirt. She rises, our legs interlocking like we plan to do sit-ups together, and I pull my shirt over her head. Baggy on her frame, she fits her arms through the holes while I add, “But that can change at any moment.”

“Do you want to visit her?”

I run a hand through my black hair. “I don’t have the time.” I immediately feel the guilt in those words. “She’s in New York. I’m in Philly.” I glance at my gym office, where I should be shuffling through the P&L for last month.

I don’t move an inch, though.

Am I not worthy of my mom or this gym if I just want to shirk everything aside to extend my time with Sulli?

I say tightly, “I can’t close that distance with how much crap I have going on here.” I grimace and let out a groan. “Fu—frick, I sound like a horrible son.”

She shakes her head, a small smile cresting her lips from my almost curse slip-up. “You’re not. You’re really fucking busy. I’m sure she understands that.”

Mozart switches to Beethoven on my playlist, and I can’t kick the guilt that’s kicking me. I stare longer at Sulli.

“You’ve got that look,” Sulli says.

“What look?”

“The ‘you want to tell me something’ look.” She touches her ankle bracelet absentmindedly. “You get these little wrinkles right between your eyebrows.” She touches the spot on my face.

I scrunch my brows more. “How long has that been going on?”

She laughs. “It’s not an affliction, Kits. It’s fucking cute. Sexy, even.” She wags her brows.

“Sexy is you wearing only panties on the mats underneath me.” I lift up my palms. “In my hands.”

“In your hands,” she repeats with a growing smile. “Yeah, fuck, that’s definitely the hottest thing. You win, this time.” Seriousness reappears as our eyes lock in a solid beat. “Am I right though? You need to tell me something?”

I rub my palm. “Maybe it’s not just time that’s keeping me from visiting her,” I confess. I pause, gauging how Sulli is taking this. Her rapt attention wields no judgment. It pushes me forward, and I continue, “She left me, Sul. She made that choice to leave Philly when she was having health problems. She knew I couldn’t follow her, but she left anyway.” My muscles tighten. “I don’t have an urge to go visit someone who chose to be around her siblings over her own son. Especially after my dad died.”

Sulli holds my ankle consolingly. “I understand being hurt by the people you love. Icing them out. I think I might be really fucking good at that.”

I think about her recently repaired friendship with Beckett. “You fixed that, though. I’m not sure I want to fix this, Sul.”

She frowns. “What if your mom gets really sick? You won’t even visit her then?”



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