Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
So at least I knew I would have to run across her again eventually. Get a chance to talk to her. Ease whatever anxiety she was having about what went down in the room.
It was no big deal.
If she wanted to just move on and pretend it didn’t happen, I could do that. I mean, I was pretty sure I’d be wrapping my hand around my cock and picturing it being her and her mouth for the next six months to a year, at minimum. But if she wasn’t interested, she wasn’t interested.
If she was, though…
“If she is… what?” I asked my reflection as I contemplated the logistics of trying to do something slightly less than a shower, but a little more than a whore’s bath. I wasn’t used to not showering. It was starting to bother me already.
If she was interested in me, then, well, I was interested too, wasn’t I?
I wouldn’t pretend to understand a goddamn thing about getting involved in more than a casual way. Especially with a woman like her. Softer, sweeter, so far from car racing and gun running that it was insane to believe she could possibly even be crashing at the clubhouse with the rest of us.
But there was no denying that my interest was piqued, that I would be willing to… I don’t know. Take her out on a date. Then another one. And another.
I was far from recovered. And I didn’t see myself being able to properly consummate anything for several weeks still. When the rashes healed over and didn’t feel like I was being raked with glass when something lightly brushed me, when my ribs didn’t shriek when I turned too fast or tried to take too deep of a breath.
Still.
I had one good, working hand.
I had a hungry mouth.
I knew where the battery drawer was.
Satisfaction could come in many forms.
“Christ,” I hissed, exhaling hard, then gathering the supplies I needed for my makeshift shower/bath.
After about an excruciating hour, I had myself cleaned and my wounds re-dressed as well as I could, and made my way back out of my room.
The tray was gone, and I felt my lips curl up ever so slightly.
At least she’d eaten.
And known that I’d tried to reach out.
When I got down to the kitchen, the mess from lunch was cleaned up, the dishwasher humming softly as it ran.
Eddie, it seemed, took a brief break from feeding us to actually go into work for a bit.
Eddie helped run the auto parts shop that Che’s wife, Saskia, had opened up next to the repair shop that the club ran as a legitimate way to clean our cash, and look legitimate to the government.
It was her way of keeping in touch with her racing days. It was the same for Eddie, too. He could still talk to the up-and-coming street racers, tell them what the good shit was for their cars, and what was a waste of time and money to modify.
He liked that shit.
Just not quite as much as he clearly liked to cook for the people he loved.
I wondered sometimes if he was ever going to actually become a Henchmen, or if he just liked being in the inner circle.
He wasn’t exactly like myself, or Che, or even Saskia. He hadn’t really been meant for a life of crime. He just liked cars. He liked driving fast. He liked the attention he got from the women when he won a race. That was how he’d gotten into the racing world.
I could see him happily working at the shop and cooking for us, and never actually wearing a leather cut for the rest of his life.
And we would all be happy with that too, if that was his path.
A loud banging sound had me hobbling past the kitchen island to find Remy’s tortoise jamming himself against the kitchen door, likely wanting to go outside so he could go play in the whole tortoise playground thing that was built back there for him. Complete with water to play in and edible plants.
Glancing around after letting him outside, I didn’t see Triss or the other guys hanging around. And after standing listening for a few minutes, I was satisfied in thinking she wasn’t at the range with Alaric again either.
I’d just moved back inside when I heard the front door open and close, then the sounds of several purposeful footsteps moving in my direction.
Not Triss and the younger guys.
Huck, Che, McCoy, Remy, and Seeley.
It was usually not a pleasant visit when all of the original members of the club were staring at you with guarded looks.
“Do you guys know where everyone is?” I asked.
“Alaric, Levee, and Cato took the girls shopping,” Seeley said, and there was no real, logical explanation for the way my stomach dropped at hearing Maeve wasn’t still upstairs, typing away at her laptop, within reach.