Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Adalyn could have died in that moment, loving the way it felt to be captured by him. Anticipating what else was to come, she squeezed her thighs together as a wave of heat flowed through her lower belly.
“Good.” He lightly tapped her ass with the hand that had been resting at the small of her back. “Now, get in.”
Her jaw almost dropped to the floor and the breath she had been holding released in a huff as he pulled away from her reach. She should have guessed he would do that.
Deciding to file that away for later, she got in the car, somewhat grateful he hadn’t really kissed her. Because God knows if I would’ve stopped.
She watched him get in and start the car; it was strange seeing an almost playful attitude come from him today. She was unable to stop smiling almost the entire way to her house. She had to admit their “little game” sure was fun.
“What did you mean this morning when you said he can’t to Lake?”
She had to practically shake her head before realizing what he was talking about. “Oh, we wanted to know if you knew how to ride a skateboard, but I told her you couldn’t.”
“I do know how to ride, though.” He laughed as he put the car in park once he reached her driveway.
Well … shit. Her cheeks began to turn a bright shade of pink as she reached for the car door and opened it. With visions of him skateboarding, she damn sure didn’t trust herself to be around him.
A slow smile appeared on his lips. “I could show you sometime, sweetness.”
LEAVE, ADALYN!
Getting out of the car quickly, she stopped before turning back to make one last mistake. “You don’t ride a motorcycle, though, right?”
“No, but I know how. I used to ride dirt bikes a lot, but I haven’t ridden in a whil—”
Slamming the door, she looked heavenward. “Why, God, why?”
Twenty
The Moment Right Before He Broke
Through the huge glass window, she stared down at the city below her while tapping her heels. She had waited for what seemed like an hour before the door behind her finally opened.
Without turning around to see who it was, she spoke to the air, almost like she was speaking to the universe. “What is it that makes a person just”—lifting manicured fingers, she snapped them—“snap?”
“Who are we talking about?” Lucca asked, stopping beside her to stare out at the city.
Truthfully, she wanted to know why anyone would, but right now, she would settle on just one. “Joey.”
Not wanting to beat around the bush, he got on with it. “What did you come here for, Maria?”
“I want to know what you’re going to do with him.”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“And the others? Do you know who they were?” A hard expression seeped onto the pretty blonde’s face.
“What does it matter to you?” Lucca looked at his sister. “I thought you didn’t like Angel.”
Her heartless voice matched her heartless soul. “I don’t, but I don’t like traitors either.”
“Neither do I,” he agreed, looking back out at the city.
“So, who were they?”
With a sigh, he didn’t seem pleased when he responded, “I haven’t figured that out yet either.”
Shaking her head, she looked at him from the corner of her eyes. “I think you might be losing your touch, brother.”
“And you think you could do better?” Amused by his own question, he didn’t anticipate his little sister’s reply.
“Oh, I know I could,” she told him without an inkling of a doubt in her mind. She turned around to face him, not letting him underestimate her. “Do you really think you would be the one to sit on the throne if I weren’t born a woman?”
Lucca’s intense blue-green eyes had a question of his own. “Do you know what rules are for, Maria?”
Now it was his reply that she hadn’t anticipated.
“They are meant to keep weak men from breaking, and given for great men to break.”
One … Two … Three … Four … Angel didn’t know how long it had been since the closet door had been closed.
Five … Six … Seven … Eight … All he knew was that he was hungry, thirsty, and in pain.
Nine … Ten … Eleven … Twelve … And even though it was pitch-black in there, he felt like the already tiny space had somehow grown smaller and smaller with each passing hour.
Thirteen … Fourteen … Fifteen … It was almost like a game to see who would crack first. To see who would break first. Either his father would by unlocking the door, or Angel’s mind would break before his father even came to the door.
The best part of the game was that neither of them would know who won until the door opened. It was a sick game of outlast, and they both would be damned if they lost.