Total pages in book: 173
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“Less? I can’t do less.”
“You look terrible,” Ian told her. “Fuck, I knew we should have locked her in her room when we got back here.”
“What?” she squealed. She stared up at Jack, expecting him to be more reasonable.
“Tying her to one of our beds would have been simpler,” Jack said.
“True.” Ian nodded.
“The two of you are bonkers. No one is locking me in a room or tying me to their bed or taking over care of my uncle. That’s my job.”
“And our job is to take care of you.” Ian came closer to them. Jack grabbed her, spinning her so she now faced Ian. Then Jack moved closer behind her, pinning her between them.
Holy assbaboons. How was she meant to think? To breathe?
Her legs started to go weak, but they held her steady. Jack’s hands were on her hips as Ian grabbed her chin, tilting her head back.
“Your job is to protect my uncle,” she countered.
“I wasn’t talking about the job we get paid for,” Ian told her.
Dear. Lord.
They were killing her.
“You don’t look well, Little girl,” Ian told her. “You’re going to get sick if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“I feel perfectly fine. I don’t need any help. Look, I just came down here for some superglue. Not for a lecture or to be told how terrible I look.”
Definitely not for them to make her weak in the knees and want to beg them to touch her, kiss her.
“What do you need superglue for?” Jack asked.
“My boot is broken.”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “What?”
She nodded over at the table. “Do you have some?”
“Yeah, I’ve got some.” Ian backed away and relief filled her.
Uh-huh. That was definitely relief.
No, she was not lying to herself.
When she went to move away from Jack, though, he grabbed hold of her hips and pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Behave, baby.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean that you’re not to keep things from us or lie to us. Just keep that in mind.” He moved away, and it took her a moment to get her body and brain in sync.
Damn it. They had fried her brain. It was mush inside her head. As she sat at the table, Ian handed her some glue before sitting next to her. Jack brought over a cup of tea for her. And a small plate with biscuits on it.
“Oh, there’s a reason you’re my favorite.”
“Hey!” Ian protested.
Oops. Had she hurt the big guy’s feelings?
“When you bring me chocolate chip biscuits and tea, you can be my favorite,” she said as she took a giant bite of one.
Jack sat on her other side. Shitballs.
Didn’t they have anything better to do? Something that meant they weren’t sitting here distracting her?
Grabbing her boot, she turned it over and started gluing the piece back on.
“These boots look a bit past it, Little Misfit,” Ian told her.
“They’re fine. They were a bargain. I found them in a thrift store. Can you believe it? They’re only one size too big for me.”
She was aware that the both of them had fallen silent. She gave them a curious stare.
“Oh, lizardbutts,” she muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Ian asked.
“I forgot to get some paper to put it on to dry. Don’t want to get glue on the table.”
“I’ll get it,” Jack told her, lightly squeezing the back of her neck as he stood.
Lord. She needed him to stop doing that. It was like it was a trigger point.
Touch here and make her clit sit up and sing!
“Thanks,” she muttered as she took the piece of paper he offered and shoved it under the boot.
Why were they still here? And so close?
Urgh. Killing her.
She stood up, needing to get away, but as she took a step, her leg collapsed under her as a bolt of agony raced through her. She let out a scream of pain.
The floor rushed up to meet her. She would have hurt herself if Ian hadn’t moved so quickly, grabbing her before impact.
A sob escaped her before she could subdue it.
She breathed in shallowly, trying to manage the pain.
“What the fuck?!” Ian yelled. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Where does it hurt, baby?” Jack asked as Ian drew her up into his arms.
“My . . . it’s my . . . hip.”
“Your hip?” Ian repeated. “What did you do to it?”
“Old injury. Car accident,” she said through gritted teeth.
Ian laid her down on the sofa in the living room. She attempted to sit up, but Jack was there, pressing her down.
“The car accident from five years ago?” Jack asked.
“That was in my background check?”
“Yeah. There wasn’t anything in-depth though,” he replied as Ian started talking on the phone. “Nothing about the injuries you sustained.”
Who was Ian calling?
“It was only because there was a police report that it was in there,” Jack added. “But I did my own research into you. I know the accident ended your career.”