Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 99766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
After I’m clean and ready to face Garrett, I exit the bathroom. The small cabin is bustling with activity. Charlotte is in the kitchen at the coffee machine with Cal wrapped around her. Hollis is pouring milk for Sebban while Roan inhales a donut.
Jace, the big motherfucker he is, sits sprawled out on the sofa like he owns the place.
“Where’s Garrett?” I ask, as I sit down beside him.
“Checking on the girls in your room. Charlotte called this morning to tell him what happened.” His amber eyes flash. “I’m here in case we need to kill anyone.”
“If Cal would have got his hands on Eli or Paxton last night, he sure as shit would have for as pissed as he was.” I rub at my temple, hating that a headache is starting to form this morning. “Now that he’s clearheaded, he’ll come up with something a little more fitting for those douchebags. A beating to death is too simple.”
He nods. “I still think we should beat their asses. Those fuckers messed with my girl.”
Jace doesn’t seem the type to fuck around with girls twice as young as him, but I still get unnerved by his words. She’s my girl, not his.
“Whatever happened with your kid, man?” he asks, brows furling. “Samantha is pretty good about that shit. I figured you’d know by now.”
“I don’t know,” I say with a heavy sigh. “She says she’s working on it. It’s probably Jack, though. He’s not exactly a cool guy or easy to work with.”
Cal drops into the recliner. “How you were even friends with that guy is beyond me.”
Jace whips his head in his direction. “Me?”
“Yeah, Daddy Hoodlum. You. Dad said you and Jack Henderson were buddies in high school. He’s such a fucking loser.”
Jace tenses. “I’m not friends with him. We hung in the same circles, but we weren’t tight. What the fuck? That wife-beating piece of shit is your kid’s grandpa?”
“Wife-beating?” I growl out. “How the fuck do you know he beat his wife?”
“Jack and Vicki were together in high school but broke up because he gave her a fucking black eye at a football game. Everyone saw. She was mortified. Ended up hooking up with one of our friends and later got pregnant. When that dude bailed, Vicki took that piece of shit back.” Jace shakes his head. “I heard through friends that he wasn’t good to her or her daughter.”
Lacey.
Bile rises in my throat.
My mind drifts to the summer before my senior year of high school. To the one night I was with Lacey Henderson before she vanished into the night without another word.
“Don’t act like all this bullshit between us hasn’t just been foreplay leading to this night.”
Her eyes skate down my chest once more, lingering at my dick, before she looks down at her feet. “I’m not a virgin. Sex isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, though. It’s kind of boring. And messy.”
“All I heard was that you fucked some loser who couldn’t get you off and came all over your stomach like he thought he was a porn star and now you’re jaded.” I step away from my pile of clothes and slowly approach her. “How close was I?”
“Right on it,” she admits, her brows tugging together.
I fist the front of her T-shirt and pull her to me. My other hand slides beneath the material, skimming over her ribs to settle on her lower back. “I’m not boring,” I murmur, dipping my head low so I can inhale her. “And if we fuck in the river, it won’t be messy either.”
She gasps when I slide my hand into her shorts. I give the flesh an appreciative squeeze.
“Ready to get naked, Lacey?”
“Not really.” Her voice comes out in a whispered quiver.
“I won’t hurt you,” I murmur. “You know that, right?”
She nods and fuck if my heart doesn’t tighten inside my chest.
“I’m going to make you feel really damn good. And then, when school starts back on Monday, Moaning Lisa, you have to be nice to me.”
Lacey glowers sometimes, but mostly she remains impassive. Like that stupid Mona Lisa painting we studied in art class. The same painting she so passionately spoke about to the teacher when she had to present her report over it. Some asshole named Troy suggested she get a room with the painting since she loved it so much and went on to make some porny moans that got his ass detention. We’ve been calling her Moaning Lisa ever since.
I chuckle, sliding my fingers along her ass crack. “Are you even capable of being nice?”
She steps back, pulling away from my touch, and glares. “I can’t make that promise. But if you make me feel good, I can promise tonight. You make it good for me and I’ll buy you breakfast. Deal?”