Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“When you’re not being a total dick, you’re actually kind of sweet.”
“I have my moments.” My gaze drops to his lips. I’m desperate to kiss his pretty mouth, and based on the way he parts his lips, I’d say he wants it too. But, my fucking phone starts ringing. I swear to fuck if that’s my sister…
I yank my phone from the pocket of the jeans I’d thrown back on after the best blowjob ever. Jax’s name is on the caller ID, so I answer it.
“What?”
“We have a problem,” he chokes out, voice panicked.
Callan’s brows knit together in worry.
“What is it?” I demand. “Brie?”
“No. It’s…” He curses. “Callan’s missing. His phone is at home, but he’s just…gone. What if Ned…” He trails off. “Fuck, we have to find him.”
Oh, shit.
“He’s here.”
Callan winces.
“Why is Callan there?” The relief in Jax’s voice is quickly being replaced with anger.
“He’s been helping me assemble more furniture,” I easily lie. “Came over this morning. You must have missed him in passing.”
“I see.” Jax sighs heavily. “I want to talk to him.”
I hand Callan the phone. His features grow stormy.
“Hello?” he greets through gritted teeth.
Jax’s raised voice can be heard as he clearly bitches out Callan, who scowls the entire time. When Jax is finished with his rant, Callan barks out that he’ll see him in a minute before hanging up on him.
“This is your fault,” he snaps. “For keeping me captive.”
“Why don’t you go ahead and let Jax know that?”
Callan
Smug bastard.
Atlas knows I’m not going to tell Jax that I was handcuffed to his bed. Because then Jax will ask more questions. I’m not about to admit it was me who’s been making his life a living hell with all the Rainbow Vigilante stuff. I already have to deal with Dante’s overbearing ass. The last thing I need is for them to tag team me. No, it looks like this will be my and Atlas’s dirty little secret.
“Where’s my backpack?” I demand, shooting him a hateful glare.
Of course, he doesn’t flinch. Just fucking grins. “I’m keeping it for evidence.”
“Whatever. Have a nice life,” I bite out and storm out of the kitchen toward the back door.
I stop when I notice the living room. There, situated in front of the bay window, is my chair. Well, the chaise lounge chair I loved to sit in at Jarrett’s. The same one I suggested Atlas get for this very spot.
He was the one who bought it.
Something about this small act warms me. He listened to my advice. Not just listened but immediately acted on it. I want to crawl onto the chair, curl up, and sleep for days. Instead, I give it a long look before slipping out the door.
It’s cold as fuck today.
The icy, Atlantic wind is being a cold-hearted bitch, spraying ice pellets at me as though my facefuck punishment wasn’t enough for last night. Heat pools in my stomach at the memory of what Atlas and I did earlier. He’s so damn gorgeous. It wouldn’t be a hardship to get punished a little more by him. I’d take the belt even. All the things he spoke of intrigued me.
What sort of freaky shit is he into?
I’m deep in thought when I hoist myself over Atlas’s fence and drop to the grass in our yard. Ox runs up to me, barking and wagging his tail in excitement. I bend to scratch my fingers behind his ears. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see Atlas through the slats of the fence, standing at his window watching me. A shiver ripples through me but not from the cold this time. No, this one is pure want burning through me.
I trek across the yard and am almost to the back door when Zak comes around the side of the house from his garage apartment. Surprise flashes over his features but irritation quickly replaces it.
“Don’t start,” I bite out, stalking past him and up the porch steps.
He mutters something under his breath, hot on my heels. I push into the house, ready to deal with whatever this shitshow morning brings me.
Ahh, an intervention. Lovely.
Shelly, Dante, Jax, and Hans are all sitting in the living room, varying looks of concern on their faces. I start past them toward my room, but Dante’s command stops me.
“Sit down.”
I close my eyes and wish for five seconds to be anywhere but here. Like at Atlas’s. At least over there, he wants to play and push boundaries. Here, they just want to gripe and make me feel bad for having a life. With a heavy, resigned sigh, I walk over to the couch and drop down beside Shelly. She reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
“We’re worried about you,” she says in her gentlest, mom-like voice.
“No need.”
She purses her lips. “Callan…”
Dante leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression serious. “Stop. Just stop with all the bullshit. You need to see a counselor.”