Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
“Be right there,” I say while covering the speaker with my hand in order not to yell in Lo’s ear.
“I’ll be in the truck,” he practically grumbles. I roll my eyes. Five minutes early is ten minutes late for Rhodes. I wait until he’s further away to finish my conversation with Lo. There’s no telling how long he’s been there and what he’s heard. The way my luck is going, he heard every single word.
“I gotta go. I’ll call you back tonight.” I stand up, looking around to find the whereabouts of my purse. It’s not like I need it. Rhodes only allowed me to drive his truck for the first couple of weeks. Even then, it was with him white-knuckling the oh shit handle. I kept my cool but smiled on the inside the entire freaking time. Army Rangers—they’re all the same. Their need for control is superior to anything.
“I’m working, but text me regardless and let me know how things are going.” Yep, Lo seems to be at her breaking point.
“Alright, don’t work too hard. Love you, Lo.” I spot my purse hanging on the back of the chair and make my way toward it. My shoes are by the door. Flip-flops have been my go-to with the hot summer heat scorching me from the inside out.
“Love you, Kyra. Resist the temptation.”
“Easier said than done.” We both laugh then say our goodbyes. I hate that my best friend has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and here I am, calling her to talk about having a lady boner for my patient/dad’s friend. I’m a damn mess.
6. Rhodes
“Idon’t suppose you’re ever going to let me drive again, are you?” Kyra tosses out her remark. I’m standing with the door to the passenger side of my truck open. The garage door is up, the vehicle turned on, and air conditioning on blast while I wait for her to slide her sweet ass in the seat of the truck.
“Nope.” She looks up at me, color tinting her cheeks, and I have to hold back telling her the feelings she has are entirely fucking mutual. I heard every word she said to her friend on the phone. The only reason I didn’t beat down the door and reciprocate what she told her was because we’re heading to a doctor’s appointment. I’ve not once in my life felt like I’m a different guy without my leg, but walking around with a crutch puts a damper on daily tasks.
“You want to drive my truck, you can, just not with me in it. When I’m with you, I drive.” Her car looks like it’s seen better days, and when I offered to park it in the garage and put mine outside, she told me no way. The sun had already beaten the paint down, and the old clunker looks to have a lot of wear and tear. It shocked the shit out of me that Diego hadn’t retired her old ride with how she’s been traveling this past year. I wouldn’t put it past Kyra to dig her heels in and tell him no fucking way. Now that I’ve gotten to know Kyra, I can tell there are battles you choose and battles you retreat from.
“Figures. All of you military men are the same. I swear.” I don’t move out of her way. There’s no use in attempting to be a gentleman when you’ve jacked your cock as much as I have to a mental image of the woman in front of me in every way, shape, or form. This woman is twenty years younger than me, my friend’s daughter, and the fantasies I’m dreaming up about her are all kinds of fucked up. Thoughts of her in my shower, in my bedroom, on every available surface in my house.
“Not just military men, Kyra. Army Rangers.” Her tits press against my chest for the barest of moments. A hiss of air leaves her pretty, little mouth as she sucks her lip in, meaning I have to hold back more than the groan that’s trying to come out of me.
“So I’ve heard.” She spins around. Whether she does it knowingly or not, her ass teases my semi. It’s not enough that thirty minutes ago I was sweating after we finished the exercises the physical therapist instructed us to do, and not because they're that hard. It always seems to come back to Kyra. The woman is a walking hard-on inducer, and she doesn’t have a single damn clue.
“Get in the truck, hellcat.” I pat her ass. The cat and mouse game we’ve been playing is coming to a head. She’s going to know exactly what I want after this damn appointment. Today, I’ll get fitted for my prosthetic. There'll be no more using a crutch unless I feel the need, and then she’ll really be in for it.