Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Or maybe there isn’t, and it’s just me.
I climb off his lap, his cum dripping from my depths as I reach for my jeans. Thankfully, I’m on birth control, but that doesn’t mean he’s clean. A conversation we’ll need to have, but I’m not about to put a stone-cold ice pick in this very heated moment. I take my helmet, pulling it back on as he jerks up his jeans. I get back onto the bike, and we take off, not another word spoken.
Yet, there are so many things I want to say.
“YOU’RE NOT FUCKIN’ eatin’ that.”
I stare at Mex, the frozen meal in my hands. “Why?”
“Full of absolute trash. There is a kitchen. You can cook.”
I snort. “I know there is a kitchen, but I can’t cook.”
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters, snatching the meal from my hand and tossing it back into the freezer. “I’ll cook.”
“You can cook?” I question, brows raised as he turns and strides off.
“Most humans can.”
I laugh.
He doesn’t.
He collects a heap of items to cook with, and I get myself some snacks and some clean sheets.
“We also have a washer ...”
I pause, sheets in my hand. “Oh, I’m aware, and before you ask, yes I can wash. But there is no way I’m sleeping on those sheets. No. I’ll catch something, even after they’ve been washed five times.”
He shakes his head, continuing on with his shop.
We don’t get a great deal because we don’t have room to carry it all. I get just enough to get me through a few days, until I can come back again. Probably in a truck next time. Then, we make our way back to the bike and load it all on. The ride home isn’t as adventurous as the ride over, but that doesn’t mean the entire time I’m not loving the ache between my legs where he filled me less than an hour ago.
I wonder what he’s thinking.
We arrive back at the club, and Mex takes me next door to see Myla’s house. He tells me how she fixed it up after her aunt passed, and an entire backstory about how her and Colt met and how he was in love with her aunt first but her aunt accidentally killed Colt’s sister in a hit and run. It’s the most Mex has ever spoken to me, and I’m completely enthralled by the story.
Then, he begins cooking over here.
He said Myla’s kitchen is the best, and I have to admit, the brand-new kitchen in the home is pretty damned nice. So is the shower, which she so graciously lets me use. She tells me to come and use her shower anytime, and even offers me a room, but Bonnie quickly tells me that unless I want to hear her and Colt going at it all night, that I’m better off just staying at the club.
Our afternoon quickly turns into a few drinks and then a fire at Myla’s place, while Mex is inside cooking some food. We are joined by Fury, Colt, and Western, and the atmosphere is actually enjoyable. The guys are relaxed, most of them high, and are laughing and talking as if I’m not an outsider. It’s the first time I haven’t felt like one, and drink after drink has me relaxing even more.
I even laugh.
Properly.
Full belly laughs.
It’s an incredible feeling.
I could get too comfortable here.
Pushing up from the fire to get another drink, I go into the kitchen where Mex is cooking. The food smells incredible, and I can’t help but walk over and lift the lid of the pot, looking in at the incredible sauce he’s making. It looks like some type of bolognaise and my stomach grumbles with need. I still haven’t eaten, and with alcohol on top of everything, I’m getting drunk way too quickly.
“I can hear that from here.”
Spinning around, I see Mex approaching with a beer in his hand.
God, he’s fine.
So damned fine.
“I’m starving,” I laugh, pressing my hand to my stomach.
Placing the beer down, he turns and goes to the fridge. He digs around for a few minutes, and then appears with some crackers, cheese, sliced ham, and olives. He quickly prepares a plate and turns, placing it down beside me. Leaning in, his body grazing over mine as he does, he reaches for the plate and collects a few of the items, putting them together and then bringing them to my lips.
Oh.
Oh, my.
I part my lips and let him slip the cheese in first, an olive nestled on top. Chewing it, I close my eyes and moan, because my word, I’m starving and that is amazing. I’m not about to tell him not to feed me, either, because it feels pretty damned nice. Opening my eyes, I meet his, and my heart flutters. I should be walking away, but I’m finding that almost impossible. When he is here, looking at me like this, it’s hard for me to think of anything else.