Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
The bricks of his glutes tighten with his strides, and sinews bunch and play along the valley of his spine. There’s no loose skin anywhere. Every inch of him is taut, hard, and honed like the sharpest blade.
Maybe he’s trying to torment me, but I don’t think that’s it. I’ve heard stories about the loss of privacy and inhibition in prison. Clothes are stripped. Showers are open. Shyness is simply not accommodated.
He disappears into the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. The shower turns on, and a moment later, steam wafts from within.
I imagine him standing under the spray, his head tilted back, and a soapy hand working over his cock. Is he long? Thick? Swollen with arousal?
Men rarely live up to the fantasy, but the fantasy’s all I need. My pussy clenches, stirring from dormancy in waves of heat.
I’m tempted to lie back and finger myself to orgasm. When was the last time I did that? Not when I lived in Texas. John fucked my libido into extinction.
The last time I felt any sexual urges was when I first moved here and caught a glimpse of Jake and Jarret. What would Lorne say if I told him I touched myself while thinking about his brothers?
Well, they’re not the ones I’m thinking about now, and that’s dangerous in itself. Lorne might be a damn fine sight to look at, but he’s meaner than a snake. Sometimes, I wonder if he treats people like shit just for the hell of it.
That’s the real reason for my mood this morning. He pushed me away last night when all I did was try to be nice.
He hurt my feelings.
I know better than to give him that power over me. Feelings aren’t part of our arrangement. I won’t tolerate him disrespecting me, and I’ll continue to stand up to him at every turn. But I can’t let him get to me.
Indifference is the only way to deal with Lorne Cassidy.
He wants his guns put together, and I’ll try to do that. Only because it’s part of my training. I’ll learn everything there is to learn about a firearm so that the next time I shoot John Holsten, I won’t fail.
Turning my attention to the scattered parts, I throw myself into the task.
Too soon, the shower shuts off, and Lorne rolls out in a mist of condensation with a towel wrapped around his trim hips.
I succeeded in sliding the bolt thingy into the hole where the barrel’s supposed to go, but I might’ve messed up the order of operations. If he shows me again, I’ll get the hang of it.
He glances at my work, and his lip curls back. “Did you even try?”
“Yes, of course. I—”
“Fucking worthless.” He snags his jeans from the floor.
A hot ember lodges in my throat, but I swallow it down. “You need to have a little patience with me.”
“That was me being patient. I gave you a simple task and clearly expected too much north of your ears.”
“Oh…” I laugh with mirthless disbelief and drop the gun parts. “No. No, you will not talk to me that way.” I slowly rise to my feet, my voice shaking on the edge of explosion. “Apologize. Right now.”
He turns his back and collects his clothes, dismissing me.
I can’t make him retract his insult, but I don’t have to stand here and look at him.
Pivoting toward the door, I walk out with more calm than I feel.
“Raina.” His footsteps follow as heavy as his voice. “Get back here.”
I pick up my pace and make it to the hall before his fist captures my hair and yanks me back against his chest.
“Where are you going?” He breathes at my ear.
“Let go.” I claw at his grip, unable to budge the steel vise of his fingers.
His other arm clamps around my waist, and panic jolts through me. But I force myself to go still so he can focus on my words.
“Bully me all you want, Lorne. You’ll be the one walking like John Wayne for the rest of your life. Don’t forget I prepare your food, and I swear on all that is holy your next meal will grow warts on your asshole and spread a rash to your balls. Everything below your belt will be so painful to look at you won’t just want your dick to fall off. You’ll take a knife to it in horrified desperation.”
“Christ.” He releases a sharp breath, and his hold on me disappears.
I lurch forward, burning the breeze in my hurry down the hall. I don’t look back until I reach the foyer.
He stands where I left him, arms at his sides, towel hanging precariously on his hips, and gaze pinned on mine. His stunned face looks like that of a coldblooded predator, but there’s definitely shock there, etched in the terrible beauty of his scowl.