Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 578(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“Jade wanted to come.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. “And I knew you guys wouldn’t be able to help yourselves. Call it a feeble attempt at damage control.”
Damage control. For these pricks? What the hell ever. I tugged at the hem of her skirt. “What’s up with this shit? Trying not to look like poor, white trash?” Because that’s exactly how Max and his friends thought of us.
“Fuck you, Zepp.” She went to move away, but Max shouldered his way behind her. Two other dickwads in letterman jackets flanked him.
“You aren’t welcome here, Hunt.” He folded his gym-rat arms over his chest.
All I could do was toss my head back on a laugh. Where this kid came from, a pussy punch to the face was considered a fight. He had no idea what a few broken ribs and a fractured skull was like.
Hendrix lurched forward, but I caught the back of his hoodie and yanked him back, like a Pitbull on a leash. My brother loved a fight a little too much. “Let me get the pretty blond one, Zepp.”
Monroe moved between us. “Jesus Christ.” She glared at me like I was the one being a dick. “You’re really going to start a fight, Zepp?”
“Hey,” I shrugged. “All I did was show up.”
She faced Max. Adrenaline fired through me when she told him we would go.
Max flashed her a smile. One full of intention. “You’re invited, Monroe.” It pissed me off that she couldn’t see through his fake bullshit. I cracked my neck to the side, knuckles aching to smack against his face.
“You hitting on my girl, Harford?” I took a step toward him, shoulders back, fists clenched.
Max Harford was a poster boy that needed a goddamn throat punch. I would gut him before he ever touched Monroe.
Wolf and Bellamy did a vulture circle around the two guys flanking Max’s side. And still, the brave bastard took a half-step forward. It took everything in me not to pop him in his mouth.
“You sure she’s your girl?” he said.
She wasn’t, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing her like she was. I yanked her close, placing one certain hand on her ass before I claimed her mouth with mine. She stilled in my hold before her fingers bunched in my shirt. Her lips parted. If I ever got her in bed, she wouldn’t sit down for a week without feeling me. “Tell him you’re mine, Roe.” I bit at her lip before she shoved me back a step.
“God, will you stop this macho shit? He wasn’t hitting on me.” She took my hand, her silent show unexpected—the way she squeezed until I felt my knuckles pop, not so much. “We’re friends, aren’t we, Max?”
When a guy wanted to screw a girl, nothing would bruise his ego more than being called a friend, which was why I shot a shit-eating grin at him.
“Yeah. Of course.” His lips twitched into a we’ll-agree-to-disagree smile before his gaze swung from her to me. “Friends.”
I skimmed my fingers beneath the hem of Monroe’s shirt, and I stared that fucker down.
Backing into me, her grip on my hand tightened. “We should go.”
“Like I said,” Max’s eyes locked with mine, “you’re invited, Monroe. Always.” One sentence that served as a nuclear explosion, a toe over the line already drawn. My muscles tensed.
“Can we just beat their asses already?” Hendrix groaned from behind me.
Before I could answer, Monroe grabbed a handful of my shirt. “Zepp...” she said, a warning tone in her voice. She knew I’d beat the shit out of him given a chance, and the thought that she wanted to protect him made me even more eager to slam his face through a window. Or a piano. Or both. “Let’s go find a bathroom,” she said, gliding a hand over my chest, but I didn’t budge. She tugged on my hand in an attempt to lead me away.
I had never backed down from a fight in my life. But even as pissed as I was, I knew kicking his ass with that many witnesses wouldn’t end well. The only reason I was able to move from the spot was the fact that Monroe was, at least, trying to make the exit insulting to that prick.
The partygoers parted when Monroe led me into the hallway.
Hendrix fell in line beside me. “Should have beat his ass, Zepp.” He eyed Monroe when she stopped in the bathroom doorway. “You’re making him soft.”
With a shake of her head, she pulled me over the threshold, then slammed the door in my brother’s face. He was right. I should have sucker-punched Max right in his rich-boy face. I shouldn’t have cared. She wasn’t mine, but the idea that Harford thought he could have her was like having a metric ton of dynamite in my head, fuse lit, and on the verge of explosion. And that last comment of his: “You’re welcome, Monroe. Always,” was a fuck you if there ever was one. And I had let him get away with it. All because she was afraid I would hurt him.