His for the Taking (Men in Charge #5) Read Online Tory Baker

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors: Series: Men in Charge Series by Tory Baker
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
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“Eh, not so much Shaun. I used Matthew, who then asked Shaun. My little brother covered for me. I’m not ready to admit to your brother how much of a fuckup I’ve been before I talk to you first.” I inhale a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments before exhaling. I’m really in deep shit if Jameson is finding the error of his ways already. I mean, sure, he’s been a giant dick hole more times than I’d care to admit. The saying goes, three strikes and you’re out. Last night was definitely his third and final, so I’m not sure why I’d give him the benefit of the doubt. Yet here I am, getting my hopes up. It’s all Kari’s fault. She’s the one who told me to hear him out, putting in little words of wisdom and encouragement. She has to know by now that not everyone can be as amazing as Johnny.

“Jameson.” I go to stop once again on our way to the pickup counter. He must have felt my body tense.

“Hold that thought. Let’s get our drinks, take a walk, and we’ll talk, okay?” He wins me over with a smile that’s panty freaking dropping. Where’s my backbone when I need it? Somehow, it manages to disappear when I’m awarded with a smile, an orgasm, or when he whispers dirty words into my ear in his driveway.

“Alright.” Jameson reaches the counter first, grabbing my iced coffee. A sigh leaves me at the perfect color coffee. You know it’s going to be a good day when there’s a perfect amount of creamer added to it.

“Here ya go.” I greedily take the cup, my mouth wrapping around the straw and taking my first sip. “Jesus, Kody,” Jameson grunts. His massive hand wraps around what looks to be a large hot coffee, and yet he dwarfs the cup. Not that I really have a clue on what he’s packing. He stopped that before I got started. All I know is the saying I’ve heard more times than I care to admit or remember, but this is what you get when you grow up with an older brother who walked around the house saying, ‘Big hands, big feet, and big meat.’

“What?” I ask, acting like I wasn’t just taking him in from head to toe.

“Come on, before you start a riot with that mouth of yours.” It’s then I put two and two together, pull the straw out of my mouth, and have the good sense to look down at the ground. The last thing I want to do is add unwanted attention. Jameson’s hand hasn’t left my lower back, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s declaring something I’m not prepared for. We walk toward the side door. I push it open with my free hand, and then we’re away from the noise of the chatter of the coffee shop.

“Thank you for my drink,” I tell him as we walk down the small red bricked alley that leads us to Main Street. Jameson stays silent, only giving a small nod of his head as he takes a sip of his coffee. It’s a good thing he’s guiding the way, so to speak, since my gaze is riveted to his side profile, watching his every move.

“You’re welcome. I’m pretty sure I owe you more than an iced coffee.” He doesn’t elaborate, yet the list running through my head is a mile long. We turn left out of the small alley. Fall is here to stay. The leaves are turning from green to the richest colors of golden yellow, a burnt orange, and a deep red. Most people who live in colder climates hate when the leaves change, a sign that winter is on the horizon, ice and snow coming along with it. As for me, I love everything about fall. Spring too; it’s worth going through a brutal winter in my eyes. Especially to have this type of beauty surrounding us. “Are you okay to sit here while we talk?” He nods to the black metal bench facing the street under a maple tree.

“Sure, that works.” I take another sip of my coffee, knowing I’m going to need it in order to get through what I hope isn’t an awful conversation. I swear if this man tries to apologize for last night or say it was a mistake, I really will throw my coffee at his stupid handsome face.

Jameson waits for me to sit down before he does. My butt meets the bench, and I pull one leg beneath me, the back of my thigh on top of my ankle. The outfit I chose to wear today is similar to yesterday’s, only this time, my leggings are olive green. I’m not wearing a flannel but a cream-colored crew neck, two sizes too big in order to cover my butt. On the front is a vintage-style logo of a pro football team. One of my finds I found at a thrift store in Chicago. It’s a team my dad shakes his head at because it’s his arch nemesis when it comes to Sunday night football. Hence why I bought it. I love to give him as much grief as he gives me. Today, I’m not wearing sandals with socks. Knowing we’d be in town, I didn’t want to step in a puddle and be left with wet feet. My shoe choice was easy, really. A pair of canvas sneakers completed the look.


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