Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
No longer able to watch him, I climb off the bed and go to his bathroom. With a cup of water from the faucet and some Advil I found in a drawer, I make my way back out to his bedside. He hasn’t moved an inch. I think better of leaving when I turn and reach the door. Rather than pulling the heavy wood open, I flip the lock and turn the light off.
I’m questioning my sanity when I cross the room once more, climb into bed with him, and snuggle into his side.
Chapter 18
Briar
Nighttime is always the worst time. Left alone with my thoughts and the horrors that visit me while I sleep are almost enough to keep me awake. It isn’t Freddy Krueger or flashes from my past that infiltrate my brain in slumber. It isn’t the disgusting and depraved things I’ve done for my club with a smile on my face.
My dreams are filled with fantasies. Sinful and wicked things I want to do with a certain club princess.
Groggily, with my brain still sloppy from drinking, I’m roused to semi-consciousness.
The weight on my chest is comforting for a sliver of a second. With my eyes closed, I can pretend Molly is in my arms. It’s so soothing, I almost let my brain shut down and let sleep take over again.
The flash of brown hair and a girl I’d never seen before fill my head, and I stiffen. Throat dry and rough from my heavy night of drinking, regret and shame hit me in the chest. The scent of the woman on my chest invades my nose, and my stomach turns.
But when I look down, it isn’t brown hair sticking in the stubble of my beard. Blonde hair and Molly’s perfectly pouty lips greet my hazy vision.
“Mols?” I groan, my cock thickening without further thought.
She shifts, nuzzling against the hair on my chest before settling again.
Something’s different. She doesn’t smell the way she should. She’s covered in a masculine scent and clothes I’ve never seen before, rather than the fresh scent of apples and a tank top and yoga pants.
The memory of her with that fucking vet hits me in the chest like a ton of bricks.
How dare she come to me after being with him. A deeper inhale is like acid in my lungs, the burn enough to make my arms jolt in rage.
I’m ready to throw her off of me, insist that she get the fuck out of here. I’m seconds away from packing my shit, knowing I’d never be able to survive seeing them together, but then her hand flexes and I realize just how desperately low her touch is.
With a thigh tossed over my legs, one arm is curled under my shoulder, but it’s the other hand that can’t be ignored. Halfway between my belly button and my erect cock, I’m grateful my dick prefers hugging my thigh rather than growing toward the waistband of my boxers. Pale fingers flex again, as if she’s playing with my happy trail in her dreams.
My eyes clench closed, and I breathe deep.
Another mistake.
His cologne invades my nostrils again.
“Molly,” I hiss, shifting my weight so she’s off of my chest and flat on her back. I cover her, ignoring the fact that her thighs part and I’m pressed against the scorching heat of her body.
My eyes never open as my breaths rush out in sharp gusts.
“You need to—”
Her lips cover mine before I can finish. This isn’t the hallway. We aren’t sneaking a few private seconds with the risk of getting caught. The clubhouse is silent, and the middle of the night greets us as if swearing to hold our secrets forever. The temptation is almost enough to make me cave, but the smell of him on her skin is too much to bear.
“Did he treat you right?” I press my cock against the apex of her thighs. “Did he make you come before he took it from you?”
She whimpers, and with my eyes still closed, I can’t tell if I’m hurting her or if there’s a neediness to the sound.
“Open your eyes,” she begs. I shake my head, swallowing roughly as I try to will myself to get off of her. “Please.”
The pleading in her voice isn’t enough to get me to look down at her. “I can’t. If I open my eyes, then you underneath me is real.”
“I’m real. Please.”
“No,” I hiss, my hand finding the hair at the nape of her neck. I bury my face between her jaw and shoulder. “This can’t be real. We can’t be real.”
I’m trembling, my muscles and my brain fighting one another on what should happen next. The alcohol in my system urges me to pull her clothes from her sinful body and show her what she missed out on with the vet. My brain tells me I’m a dead man either way. Clearly, they aren’t combating each other as much as I thought.