Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Some people have a higher threshold to pain than others,” Doc says, sewing my eyebrow back together.
“While some just like it,” I declare.
Paw pulls a face. “You mean that needle ain’t making your insides roll? Because just watching it is making me queasy as hell.”
They think I don’t feel because I’m quiet and silent, and barely react to things that most men would look away from.
But they’re wrong.
I feel fucking everything.
“Who’s coming over to Aces?” Paw asks.
After every fight, we head across the road to a bar called Aces High.
It’s owned by Oscar, who runs the underground fights at his gym. He’ll slide an envelope of cash across the table and buy us a drink. Afterward, my brothers and I will shoot some pool, then we’ll head back to the clubhouse, where I’ll retreat to my room alone, jerk off to drain any residual energy coursing through my veins, and start praying that insomnia doesn’t set in.
“I have to sit this one out,” Jack says.
His wife is heavily pregnant with their second baby, and he wants to spend more time at home.
“How is Bronte?” Paw asks.
“You know, she takes everything in her stride. It’s Friday night, so she’s expecting popcorn and foot rubs. But I want to check in on Gabe before I head home.”
Gabe is back from Las Vegas. After three months of marriage to a showgirl he married within two days of meeting, he walked in on her and a male dancer going at it in their bed. After a lot of screaming, she told him it was over. She had made a mistake, she said. She wanted a divorce.
Heartbroken, he came home to Tennessee and the club and has been finding solace in one whisky bottle after another.
“Well, I’m feeling lucky tonight,” Paw says, shoving his phone into his back pocket. “I’m going to have a drink, shoot some pool, and hopefully meet the future ex-Mrs. Paw. What about you, Ares?” He pats my shoulder.
“I don’t need a distraction. Not until after the fight with Punisher.”
“You need to lighten up and indulge in some relaxation time.” Paw shoots a raised eyebrow at me and says, “You’re allowed to get close to a woman, you know. They don’t bite. Well, if you’re lucky, they might. Might even let you spank them a bit. Hell, if you’re real lucky, they’ll want to spank you back. But my point is, you need to at least get close to one first. It’d be even better if they were naked.”
I frown at him.
Jack leans in. “In other words, do yourself a favor and go get laid.”
RORY
I wait patiently for him to arrive.
Alone in a booth, nursing a vodka and soda, my nails tap the side of the glass in time to Quarterflash singing “Harden My Heart” bleeding through the sound system.
The bar is filling with people who watched the fight across the road at Oscar’s Gym. The booth beside me is full of women on a bachelorette night, and they’re getting nice and toasted. The bride-to-be is dressed in a tight, white dress and heels with a sash draped across her and a veil covered with cheap plastic beads. She’s drunk as fuck on sparkling wine and keeps banging the table with her palm every time her girlfriends make her laugh.
I glance past her toward the doorway, waiting to see the familiar big frame fill the space, but he still isn’t here, and I’m beginning to worry he might not come tonight.
Be calm. He always comes after his fights.
I clear my throat and think about my game plan.
But my concentration is interrupted by the ladies in the booth beside me.
The bride-to-be, who I now know is called Leah, has had too much wine and starts to cry because the idea of spending the rest of her life with Brad scares her, and she really wants to have sex with Luke from the gas station, and if she’s really honest, she hasn’t gotten over Travis, the hot quarterback in high school who took her virginity and then dumped her for the cheer captain.
When one of her friends—a sweet girl with a short black pixie cut—tries to console her, Leah snaps at her and questions why she should listen to her when she’s never even been on a date.
Breathe, bridezilla. Breathe.
There’s more sobbing as her girlfriends all rally around her before she dramatically disappears to the bathroom with the pixie-cut girl in tow.
That’s when he walks in, and it’s like all the air leaves the room.
Every head turns as the six-foot-something of pure muscle and testosterone follows his friends across the room and makes his way to the bar. I look away and turn my attention back to my drink.
The women in the booth beside me start to giggle, one of them declaring what she’d like to spend the night doing to him, another wondering if he’s as big in his boxer shorts as he is everywhere else. The third mentions she heard a rumor that he has eleven inches behind his zipper, to which all her friends sigh dreamily.