Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 530(@300wpm)
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” His lips quirk into an irresistible grin. “You make me feel like I finally earned my last name.”
It’s sweet but also somewhat sad in a way I can’t express. I trace my finger over his bottom lip. “You’ve always been royalty in my eyes.”
His hand cups the back of my head, pulling me closer for a long, slow kiss. “I’m glad I was the first one to give you that,” he murmurs against my lips. “Want to give you all your firsts.” After a few beats he adds, “And lasts.” It’s spoken so low, the words are a whisper over my skin.
His phone rings, the light from it brightening the interior of the darkened car.
Holy shit. We’re sitting on the road in front of my house with my brother probably right inside.
“Wow. I forgot where we were,” I mumble, untangling myself from Griff’s lap and dropping into my seat.
“Yeah, me too.” He eyes his phone but doesn’t answer it. My gaze slides to the screen. Ruthless.
“Shoot,” I whisper. “Tell me Remy’s just calling to see how the fight went? He always checks in with you, right?”
He hits the decline button, and silence descends over us.
“We can’t do that again, Molly,” he says in a stern tone, so unlike the sweet way he just spoke to me.
Tears prickle my eyes. His strong, firm hand grips my chin, turning me to face him. “Please, don’t make this harder. We just need to wait a little longer.”
“Oh.” He’s not mad at me. I tilt my head, rubbing my cheek over his hand. “Do you care about me?”
“God, Molly. You know I do.”
“Okay. I can wait.”
The corners of his mouth tip up. Before he responds, his phone rings. It’s Remy. Again.
We both stare at the screen.
“I don’t think he’s calling to see if I won. He’s probably looking for you.”
As soon as he says it, my phone rings.
My heart pounds as I also tap the red decline button. “Do you think he saw—”
Griff snorts. “No. If he saw what we just did, he’d be dragging me out of the car and beating the shit out of me by now.”
“Oh,” I say, at first relieved and then realizing what Griff actually said. “He better not touch you. What you and I do together is none of his business.”
Griff nods even though his jaw locks as if he disagrees.
Griff
Maybe the kick I took to the head tonight was harder than I thought.
What was I thinking? Making out with Molly in front of her house where Remy could have easily walked outside and gotten an eyeful? No doubt in my mind he would’ve done exactly what I’d described to Molly.
Molly.
As soon as she bounds up the front steps and pushes inside the house, I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut.
Her cherry scent clings to my skin and the interior of my car. My cock’s aching and my balls are probably bluer than a July sky. But it was totally worth it to see that look of wonder on her face. Her joy. To know I was the first one to give her that pleasure.
I wanted to give her so much more.
Fuck.
I’m so motherfucking fucked. Not twenty minutes after I swore I wouldn’t kiss her again, I let her crawl in my lap and dry hump my dick until she came.
And it was fucking amazing. Better than any other sexual experience in my life.
When I’m finally calm enough to drive home, I turn my car around and head toward my apartment. I may have told Molly several white lies. I don’t want to move into Remy’s place, because once she turns eighteen, I want to be able to spend time alone with her without her brother in our business.
Does that make me a creep? Maybe.
A shitty friend? Definitely.
CHAPTER THREE
Griff
You’d think my aching balls would keep me awake on the short drive home, but fatigue and bone-weariness follow me to the small brick apartment complex.
I park in my regular spot and stop to check on my Harley at the edge of the parking lot. I really should start storing it at Remy’s. Too tired to check anything major, I make sure it’s in one piece, then head into the building. My mother’s place is on the bottom floor, and I stop there first.
I knock softly—not that she’s probably even lucid enough to comprehend what the sound means. I press my ear to the door. Nothing but the faint hum of a fan reaches me. A cold trickle of fear slides down my back as I use my key to open the door.
It’s only a matter of time before I walk in and find her dead.
“Ma?” I call out as I step over the threshold. The fan whirring in the corner does nothing to clear the stuffy air. The apartment reeks of sweat, desperation, and chemicals with a sickly undertone of puke.