Beautiful Criminal Read online M.N. Forgy (Omerta Law #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Omerta Law Series by M.N. Forgy
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Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58691 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
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He climbs off of me and I cross my arms in front of my chest.

“What are you doing?” My eyes wide, I watch him move to the counter and tug my cell phone from the charger. He glares at me, putting the phone in his expensive-looking slacks, and proceeds to the front door.

“Kieran, what are you doing?” I repeat, and he ignores me, walking out further into the overgrown front yard. Lifting his hand behind his head and throws the keys toward the lake. My mouth drops watching the keys plop into the water randomly by an old dock.

“You are unbelievable!” I shout. Turning and running his hand through his hair, he slips past me, looking down at me.

“So I’ve been told.” He winks, implying he’s unbelievable sexually.

Now inside he takes off his suit jacket, folding it and laying it just so on the table.

“Get some clothes on,” he orders, and it occurs to me his eyes have never even dipped once to look at my naked body.

“Give me back my gun first.” I try and bargain.

Folding up the sleeves of his shirt revealing striking black tattoos, he side-eyes me, his mouth parted just so. “I will when you learn how to use it.”

Searing white anger nearly blinds me. I may not know how to aim but I’d gladly keep shooting bullet after bullet until one hits him in his cold blackened heart.

He looks away from me, his thick brows furrowing.

“I said put some clothes on.”

Knowing my nakedness is bothering him, I drop my arms to reveal my body. The sudden boldness making my clit throb just slightly.

“Or what?” I press, my head tilted down slightly, I look at him through hooded eyes. Hopelessly baiting him.

He stills, his head turning but not all the way to look at me.

“Or I won’t get us breakfast,” he threatens, and at the thought of eggs, my stomach growls reminding me there’s no food in the house and I have no way of getting any now that my car keys are sunk in the lake. I haven’t eaten anything but Twizzlers and Doritos on the ride here last night either.

But I’d rather starve than give in to his bribery. It may seem petty, but it’s one small step into his game and a man like Kieran is used to getting what he wants. Well, not this time.

“You can eat alone,” I growl, heading to my room. His footsteps can be heard from behind me and my heart nervously skips a beat. Just as I look out of the corner of my eye he lurches forward fisting my right wrist and throws me up against the cold wooden wall. Both of his hands on mine, he slides my arms above my head causing my breasts to press into his immaculate chest. I can feel his body heat against my soft skin, and the beat of his heart drum. I can’t help the blossoming of longing my entire body incurs from his nearness. My blushing face accompanied by parted lips to allow a trembling breath, I can’t look away from his eyes. I want him off me now. I need to breathe, I need space.

“I really don’t like chatty women, especially ones with attitudes who have nothing relevant to say,” he mutters, his face inches from my own. His face stubbled with fine black hair that if I wasn’t hating him so much right now, I’d want to run the pads of my fingers through, and being this close I can’t help but notice his green eyes, they even have specks of gold in them. Huh, they almost look gentle which is saying something for this violent man. He looks back at me just as intently, those irises seeing right through me and unraveling a web that I’ve been building over my heart. One that has been telling myself I’m fine and getting me through the days. The tight squeeze around one of my wrists releases and he trails a single finger down the sensitive skin of my arm, down the crook of my inner elbow. His touch tantalizing as it is fascinating.

Why do I suddenly feel vulnerable? Maybe it’s because I’m only in lace panties.

I need away from him.

I feel trapped.

I raise my knee, hitting him in the balls. He groans, turning away from me. He doesn’t fall to the ground or cry like I thought he would though. I take a freeing breath now that he’s out of my space, but my lungs fill with the smell of his cologne. My senses are assaulted with mixed spices, rum, and a woodsy smell.

“Then I’m not your type, glad we got that out of the way quickly,” I rebuttal, descending to my room and slamming the door shut. Goosebumps linger along my spine, the hairs on my arms raised as I think about him being so close to me, and the way his fingers danced along my arm as if he owned me.


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