Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74122 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
She was not his woman. She’d never be his woman. She was only in his life for a short while. He was a means to an end for her.
He wanted to smash his fist into a wall. He wanted to beat someone to a bloody pulp. He grabbed a bottle of Jack and a shot glass and rushed around to the open end of the bar and toward the back of the club, ignoring everyone who called out a greeting. Including Emma calling out his name.
He moved past Moose standing guard outside the Red room.
“Boss,” he called.
Dawg ignored him, too. Whatever the prospect needed he could handle it himself.
Right now, he needed to down some whiskey and numb his brain. He needed to get his thoughts back on business and off Emma.
And that fucking dress she was wearing.
And her tits practically hanging out.
And those slits in that dress that played a sexy peek-a-boo with his customers.
And that man’s hands on her as she flirted with him, got him worked up, probably sporting a fucking hard-on while thinking he’d score with her.
He shoved the door to the back area of the club open and slammed it behind him. He took long strides into his office and slammed that door shut, too. None of it made him feel any better.
With a growl, he whipped the shot glass across the room and it shattered into a thousand pieces as it crashed against the wall. He untwisted the cap off the bottle and brought it to his lips, letting the smooth amber liquor slide down his throat, warm his belly, coat his jealousy.
She’d been in his life a little over a week now. Barely over a fucking week. And he’d totally lost his shit over her. Lost his damn mind.
He didn’t want any other man touching her, looking at her, thinking about her in the same way he did. Not even his customers.
When he lowered the bottle, he realized he’d guzzled a third of the whiskey in seconds flat. He barely stopped himself from chucking the bottle across the room, too.
He knew it wouldn’t take long for D’s crew to locate her daughter. Maybe a couple of weeks, a month at the most. They were good. They weren’t going to waste time. And then she’d be gone.
Gone.
Fucking gone.
Out of his life. Out of his bed.
What the fuck was about her that got under his damn skin?
“Dawson.”
Her low, honeyed voice washed over his addled brain and he squeezed his eyes closed. He couldn’t look at her. Not yet.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Yeah, you got under my skin, you crawled into my chest an’ burrowed yourself in deep.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
You climb into my bed every night an’ make me wish that you’d do that every night for the rest of my life.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
Every time you fuckin’ laugh or give me a smile that’s meant just for me, it rips me apart because I know you’re only here for a little while.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
You made me want you desperately with every fiber of my being. Like a fuckin’ drug.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
You call me Dawson instead of Dawg, no matter how many times I tell you not to.
That’s what you fuckin’ did.
That’s what you’ll continue to do.
‘Cause you’re you, Emma.
You’re you, baby girl. An’ I want you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.
“I... I don’t know what to say.”
He opened his eyes and spun on her. “What?” Did he say all that shit out loud?
Holy fuck.
“I never know what to say when you’re in a mood like this. If I did something wrong, I’m sorry. But I’m honestly not aware of doing anything, but what I was hired to do.”
Oh, thank fuck. That had been all in his head. And that’s where it needed to stay.
He blew out a breath. “Baby girl, you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Everything you’re doin’ is right. You’re packin’ the house. You’re bein’ the perfect hostess. You’re makin’ the customers happy. It ain’t you.”
No, it ain’t you. It’s me.
A muscle in his jaw ticked. It was him. Him. He allowed this to happen. He opened the fucking door and let her in. Hell, dragged her in. He got involved with her life, her problems.
For some crazy reason, he wanted her to discover that there was more to him than what other people saw.
He wanted to be her fucking hero. He wanted to be the one that could do what no one else could do for her.
What he couldn’t even do for himself.
How could he accept his own daughter being ripped from his life, but he couldn’t accept Lily being ripped from hers?
He was fucked up.
He didn’t even realize she’d moved closer to him. He’d been too caught up in his own fucked up thoughts.