Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“…TenShay?”
“Tenley twins plus Shay.” Like, duh. “It takes forever to say their names.”
“Okay, I’m gonna come downstairs before I wake up Kyla with my laughter.”
I grinned so hard. “Wait!” I whispered. “We could say ShayTen too. Or RivSheese.”
I was full of genius ideas.
“Pizza’s here!”
Oh! I hurried up in the bathroom and heard Greer say our guests would be here in five. That was good, ’cause I was super starving. But freshening up was important, and chances were I was getting laid tonight by the hottest Daddy in the universe.
My secret places had to smell delicious. Plus, Archie had let me borrow a bottle of almond oil that he’d not-so-discreetly urged me to apply in advance.
There was a knock on the bathroom door as I pulled up my pajama pants, followed by Greer asking if I was almost done.
“Yes, Sir.” I opened the door for him before I went to wash the oil off my hands.
The first thing I smelled was a moan-worthy wave of cheese, pepperoni, and oregano.
The second thing I smelled was mint. Strong, strong mint. It had to be one of those mints we’d received in the aftercare kit. I’d already eaten mine.
“Hoping to get lucky, boy?” Greer eyed the bathroom with mirth in his eyes. Specifically, the drops of water on the floor, the open shower door, and the bottle of almond oil on the sink.
“Nothing gets by you,” I quipped.
He grinned and walked over to the toilet.
That man had no shame. Evidently no need for privacy either.
And I had a staring problem.
Shit.
I swallowed hard and hurriedly dried my hands so I could get out of here.
“We’ll probably play tonight,” he mentioned, stopping me in my tracks. “Shay needs a beating for the same reason you do.”
I glanced at him hesitantly. “He needs to cry?”
He inclined his head and flushed the toilet.
Good thing Shay was dating two hardcore Sadists. They would get their boy where he needed to be, I was certain.
I hesitated some more as Greer washed his hands, ’cause I wanted something and wasn’t sure it was okay to ask.
“Sir?”
“Yeah?” He tilted his head at me.
I wrung my hands awkwardly and cleared my throat. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re smelling like an Altoids factory, and I was wondering if we possibly have more of those mints?”
He smiled to himself and shook his hands over the sink, forgoing the towel, and then he walked toward me while he wiped his hands on his jeans.
“You mean like this one?” He parted his lips to show the heart-shaped little mint on the tip of his tongue.
Did he even know how provocative he was just by existing? Fucking hell, downright pornographic.
“Um, yes.” I smirked unsteadily. “They were delicious.”
He kept advancing on me, slowly, until he was within reach and backed me up against the door and grabbed me in a loose chokehold.
I felt my eyes widen, and I just stared up at him, slack-jawed and rendered stupid. What was he up to?!
All while holding my gaze, he dipped down, every move measured and unhurried, and yet it seemingly happened so quickly that I couldn’t register a single reaction other than shock. I was fucking frozen in place.
Our lips brushed together, the touch light enough that I barely felt it, and then, with a soft flick of the tip of his tongue, the mint landed on my tongue instead. And that fraction of a second got blown up in my mind, allowing me—or forcing me—to suddenly register every little thing that happened. Like the warm, ghosting touch of his tongue against mine, like the icy flavor of the mint causing my mouth to water, and like the gentle pressure of his damp fingers against my carotid arteries.
A stuttered breath gusted out of me, and I automatically closed my mouth and sucked on the mint. At the same time, a hot flush bled across my cheeks, and I still couldn’t move to save my life.
“You made a mistake when you sent a dirty text in Archie’s name,” he murmured. “He uses the British spelling for favorite.”
Oh crap! He knew.
“Oh crap,” I heard myself whisper.
“I know. Brits can’t spell worth a damn.”
Still. Couldn’t. Move.
Even as humor seeped into the indecent, sexy, predatory look in his eyes, I was trapped.
“I don’t have the luxury of being naïve like my partners, Corey,” he went on quietly, the humor gone. “They say you’re worth it. They say they can’t resist. They say that even if shit goes sideways, it’s worth having you now. But they haven’t known you for three years. They don’t know the impact I know you’ll have on them.”
I could finally break the gaze. I swallowed hard and tried to put some distance between us, and now I felt too much. A million emotions crashed down on me, from dread and hurt to embarrassment and confusion. Did he want me here or not? Because I was getting the distinct impression that I was in the way. I was a threat to his dynamic—for good and for bad, I guessed.