Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
His lips curve into a villainous smile. “I’ll earn every goddamn stripe, Charlie girl.”
He grips my hips and easily tosses me into his truck. Rather than feeling railroaded or manhandled, it makes me feel something else. Safe and cared for.
Cal Hutton is going to destroy me. I can feel it.
It makes me a certain kind of crazy to crave every painful second.
Cal
Hating her is impossible.
Fucking with her, though, is satisfying.
As I start my truck, I glance over at Charlotte. I can’t believe I kissed her. This girl is confusing the hell out of me. It’d be smart to distance myself from her, but I can’t. Something about her draws me in. I can’t even talk to anyone about it. I’d talk to T, but he’s in a coma because of her. Roan is out of the question since she’s his sister-in-law and might act like a caveman if I tell him I want to do terrible, filthy things to her. That leaves Jordy, but he’s so far up Roux’s ass lately, I don’t know if that’s smart either.
Looks like I have to navigate this all on my own.
I tear out of the hospital parking lot, eager to put some distance between me and reality. Knowing T is back there, barely kept alive, injects so much anger into my soul. I bleed rage. Gnash my teeth at the injustice of it all. The farther I get away from him, the more my shoulders relax, which only piles on the guilt. I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do.
Charlotte squeaks when I gun the engine, roaring past a few slow drivers. As she holds on for dear life, my mind drifts back to Ryan. It felt good to make him bleed. The asshole deserves that and so much more. In that moment, I’d had the urge to cut his dick right off. I would’ve wound my ass in prison being butt buddies with Roan’s dad, Jace, but it’d been worth it. To watch Ryan bleed out, dickless.
I did it because of her.
Everything Jordy’s done for Roux becomes crystal clear. An understanding trickles through me. I may not like that Charlotte has me under her spell, but it doesn’t change the fact that she does. I do want to punish her. Not beat her. I want to strip her down and make her beg. I want to tease her until she screams. When she cries, it’ll be because she needs more, not because she wants me to stop. And knowing that Ryan tried to rape my fucking girl does things to me. It wrapped its possessive claws around my heart and drove me to cut a warning into that fucker’s dick. If he so much as dares to look at her, I will finish the goddamn job.
I’m flying through town, my thoughts growing darker by the second, when I hear a siren followed by flashing red and blue lights.
“Great,” I grumble as I slow my truck down and put on my blinker.
“I hate to say it,” Charlotte mutters, “but you’re an even worse driver than Penny.”
She’s joking with me, but I don’t miss the way she tenses. How her eyes keep drifting to the side mirror as she wrings her hands together. Her unease transforms my irritation of being pulled over into concern.
“You okay?” I ask, once I’ve parked. “It’ll just be a ticket and then I’ll get you home.”
Glancing over at me, she gnaws on her plump bottom pink lip and nods. I want to unbuckle her seat belt and drag her over to me. To tuck her under my arm and hold her close. I don’t know what the hell it is about Charlotte English that makes me so insane.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I jerk my head toward the window. Officer Winslow has his knuckle raised, ready to hit the glass again, so I mash the button to roll it down.
“Winslow, my man,” I deadpan. “I’ve missed you.”
He doesn’t take the bait. “License and registration, Hutton.”
I flip down my visor and grab the paperwork and then fish my ID out of my wallet.
“Who’s the girl?” he asks, his eyes glued to my driver’s license.
“My date.”
“What’s your date’s name?”
“Not relevant, man. Just give me the damn ticket,” I growl.
He looks past me at Charlotte. “Girl, what’s your name?”
“Ch-Charlotte.”
“Charlotte what?” he demands.
“Dude, back off. She’s not in trouble here. I am.” I lean toward him through the window, forcing him to take a step back. “Write the fucking ticket.”
Winslow rests his hand on his gun. “Last name, Charlotte.”
“English,” she croaks out.
“Hmph,” he says before walking back to his cruiser.
I reach across the seat, taking her hand in mine. The urge to comfort her is overwhelming. With a quick squeeze, I try to assure her it’ll be fine.
“The cops in this town hate me.” I shrug. “They hate my dad too.”