Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“I’m forty. It’s not something I want to shout from the rooftop.”
“Age is just a number.” I give him the old cliché. “Birthdays should be celebrated.”
“I’m celebrating on the inside.” He deadpans and then changes the subject. “You get here, okay?”
“The prospect was very sweet and rode over here like he had some kind of precious cargo sitting on the back of his bike. You know, I don’t think I really need a personal chauffeur.”
“Let’s err on the side of caution. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“I haven’t heard anything from The Poet in a couple of days.”
“That’s good. Like Wyatt said, it could be a prank, and the person behind it doesn’t have the skills or opportunity to follow you to Flintlock. But let’s not get complacent, okay? Come on, I’m going to show you some basic moves to protect yourself if ever you get into a situation you need to get out of.”
The clubhouse has a gym. It’s a sweaty, smelly room with weight machines, dumbbells, and a carpet of mats covering the floor.
For the next half an hour, Jack takes me through different self-defense scenarios. What to do if someone grabs you from behind, or what to do if someone grabs you around the neck. Or if someone comes at you with a knife and how to disarm them. By the time we finished, I’m panting with a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin.
“You having trouble keeping up, darlin’?” Jack teases.
He doesn’t have a bead of sweat on him.
“Not at all, old man.” I grin at him. “I’m not done. Give me what you’ve got.”
A hint of a smile hit his lips. “Sure. Let’s go over what you’ll do if someone grabs you from behind one last time. Turn around.”
“Is that because you want to perv at my ass?”
It’s meant as a joke, but it sucks the easy-going vibe away quicker than the speed of sound.
Jack’s brows tuck in. “Only because I want to see what you’ll do if someone grabs you from behind.” For some reason he looks pissed at me.
“Relax, I was kidding.”
I’m surprised by his sudden mood change.
“Quit talking and turn around.”
“All right, all right.”
When I turn my back to him, he comes at me. I duck and swing around, hitting him in the ribs with the side of my hand. Unfortunately, I lose my balance at the same time and kick him in the shin with my stray foot, sending us both to the floor.
Jack lands on top of me with a groan, his long hair spilling across my face.
For a moment, neither of us moves, but then Jack pulls back to look at me. Our hips are pressed together, and when our eyes meet, all the oxygen vaporizes from the room. The weight of his body blankets mine as I watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat, then see the lust move through his expression.
Time has stopped, and the air is tight with something forbidden and tempting.
My mouth parts with a soft gasp, and his hooded eyes lower to it, tracking my tongue as it slides across my lower lip. His breath spills from him in an unbridled groan as he watches. He swallows thickly before raising his gaze back to mine, his naked hunger rampant on his handsome face.
Kiss me, my mind pleads. Dear God, please kiss me.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he pushes up on his big arms and climbs to his feet.
Offering me his hand, he helps me to mine.
“I think that’s enough for one day,” he says, his voice rough. “I’ll speak to Ares and schedule a time for him to take you through another session.”
JACK
I pace back and forth across the carpet.
After my session with Bronte in the gym and getting hard because she was lying beneath me and looking up at me like she wanted me to fucking kiss her, I growled at the prospect to take her home and wait with her while I hightailed out of the clubhouse and went for another ride full of discomfort and guilt.
But that’s the thing about Murphy’s fucking law.
It’s the invisible string that unravels your entire day.
One thing goes wrong, and the rest of your day follows suit, making it one of those days you wish you never got out of bed.
Yeah, I’m stuck in one of those.
Because if almost devouring Bronte’s luscious mouth while getting hard as I lay on top of her in that fucking gym isn’t bad enough, when I get home, I take the situation from bad to disastrous.
I’m talking, the Titanic of disasters.
I don’t know she is in the bathroom, not until I walk in on her, completely buck naked. Drying herself off from the shower, that glorious body of hers gleams like an oasis in the late afternoon light.
Rooted to the spot, I know I should move, avert my eyes, and get the fuck out of there.