Hard Road Read Online Joanna Blake (Untouchables MC #4)

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Untouchables MC Series by Joanna Blake
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Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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And then he looked a whole lot.

I found that very interesting. Very interesting indeed.

“All right, we’ll see you soon for a girls’ night.”

Parker nodded shyly and gave me a quick hug.

Cain kissed me and scooped me up, making me squeal. He slapped my ass and I quieted right down. When my husband got bossy, I got excited.

And he was pretty much always bossy.

He put me in the car and fastened my seatbelt for me. I blushed bright pink when he kissed me long and deep.

“I got you a present, little girl.”

“You did?”

He went around back and grabbed a bag, then he climbed in and handed it to me. I opened it to find the blue dress I’d picked for Parker inside. It was even my size.

“Oh, Cain . . .” I said dreamily.

“Are you happy?”

“With you? Always.”

He kissed my cheek.

“Let’s go home and make each other really happy.”

I nodded, my cheeks turning bright red. Our baby was with my mother until later, so we had time. My husband was not just skilled and virile. He was also very creative and very, very filthy.

I couldn’t wait to get home and I told him so.

“Drive faster.”

“I give the orders around here,” he growled in his sexy bedroom voice. But as usual, he did what I told him to do anyway.

“Hmm, hmm,” I agreed with a little smirk. My man was definitely exceeding the speed limit.

We were home in half the time it usually took.

Chapter Seventeen

Parker

Shane came home at the worst possible moment. I was bent over, scrubbing a spot on the counter. I was pretty sure when I stood up that I had dirt on my face.

The way he stared at me made me think I had a whole lot of dirt on my face.

“You got clothes.”

I glanced down at the soft lightweight blue flannel I’d gotten. It was my favorite one. It was slim-cut and actually fit like a girl’s shirt. But it was just as soft as the one Shane had given me when he thought I was a boy. I was keeping that one too, I decided.

“Yes. Thank you. I’ll pay you back,” I blurted.

“No. I don’t want your money.” He cleared his throat and tossed his jacket on the back of a chair. “I have more than I need.”

“That’s a nice problem to have,” I offered with a smile. Then I cursed, realizing the rice was boiling over. I hurried to the stove and stirred it, checking on the chicken and veggies that were cooking alongside it.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“What?”

“Cook. Clean. You’re not my maid.”

“It’s fine. I used to do it at home. I kind of missed it. I find it . . . relaxing.”

I left it unsaid that it was the only thing I missed about home. The kitchen was a safe space. Public. No curtains. No one ever bothered me in there. I looked up to see Shane staring at me with a haunted look in his eyes.

“It was that bad.”

It wasn’t a question. I shrugged.

“I’m sure lots of people have it worse.”

He looked at me. “Not me. I was lucky. We had a perfect family.”

I noticed he emphasized the word ‘was’. There was a lot of pain in that one little word.

“Really? I didn’t even know those existed.”

He laughed at my joke but it sounded bitter.

“Not perfect, but close. Real close. We always had enough to go around. A nice house. We had traditions, you know? Stuff we did every year. Stupid stuff like building a snowman or eating a certain kind of pie on every holiday. But it was nice. My mother was so sweet. She lived for us.”

The unspoken ‘until’ hung heavily in the air.

“What happened to her?”

“She died,” he said bluntly. “In an accident.” He lifted his stunning eyes to mine and I felt my stomach do a loop-de-loop at the intensity. “My dad too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I wanted to hold him, I realized. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and just hold him until the pain eased. But I didn’t. I’d never held anyone. I wouldn’t know where to start.

“Your brother too?”

“No,” he said, turning away and grabbing his jacket. “He was murdered.”

I wanted to stop him. I wanted to tell him I was sorry about his brother. That I wanted to talk and . . . just be near him. I would have done anything to make him stay.

“You’re leaving? I made dinner.”

He stared at the table, set for two, then back at me. I saw something like regret twist his features for a split second. And then he just shook his head.

“No. I have to go.”

“I see.” I turned away so he wouldn’t see me cry. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Parker . . .”

He was close. I could hear him breathing behind me. I felt his hand on my shoulder, slowly turning me around to face him. I lifted my eyes to his, relieved my tears had yet to spill over.


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