Oh You’re So Cold (Bad Boys of Bardstown #2) Read Online Saffron A. Kent

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Forbidden, New Adult, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Bad Boys of Bardstown Series by Saffron A. Kent
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Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 186756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 934(@200wpm)___ 747(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
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Now I’m even more curious.

Because he was angry, yeah, but now his expression is thunderous. And it’s not a word I associate a lot with him. Shepard doesn’t get angry or thunderous or any of the things that have a serious and grave connotation.

And I’ve always been grateful for it. That he isn’t cursed by the intensity of emotions like I am. Better me than him. I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone let alone my twin brother.

So this is novel.

But if he doesn’t want to talk about it, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

I can respect that.

“Fine.” I widen my stance. “I’m guessing there’s a reason you didn’t head out with the guys.”

“Kind of.”

“So what is it?”

Finally, his posture eases and he stares at me with his usual arrogance. “Just that you haven’t thanked me yet. But you’re still welcome.”

“For what?”

“For taking great pains not to beat the shit out of you this last week.”

Despite everything, my lips twitch.

I bet he did.

This was an unprecedented situation, what I did.

While I have very little guilt about what I’m doing behind his back, I do feel guilty for giving in to that moment of impulsiveness and benching him. He didn’t deserve that, no matter how fucked up I had been in my head.

And needless to say, people weren’t happy with my decision either. When Con asked me about it, I told him the truth. That I’d lost control, and I did it out of sheer anger and recklessness. I thought he’d be disappointed in me, that I let personal feelings affect my job. But he wasn’t. He had my back and defended me to the board even though I didn’t deserve his support.

“Well, in that case, you have my gratitude,” I reply gravely. “But just to say, I wouldn’t have hit you back. Or blamed you.”

His jaw clenches. “Yeah, why’s that?”

My chest moves with a breath. “Because I was out of line.”

His jaw clenches again, but otherwise, he remains silent.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that,” I continue.

He studies me for a few moments before asking, “Are you saying that as my coach or my brother?”

It’s my turn to clench my jaw.

Because once again, I’m guilty of losing my control and benching him; I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have messed with his game. But I can’t muster up the guilt as to why I lost control. I can’t muster up the guilt for wanting to punch the shit out of him because he’s between me and her.

Because he gets to be with her while all I get to do is be on the sidelines.

It’s all irrational. It’s all fucking insane.

I don’t even want to be with her. I don’t even want to want her.

I can’t want her.

I just want my peace back.

But there you have it.

“As your coach,” I reply back.

He keeps his gaze steady as he goes on, “And as my brother?”

As his brother, I want to go to war with him. I want to fight him for her. I want to fucking steal her from him.

As his brother, I want him out of the way.

“She’s our boss’s daughter,” I tell him almost accusingly.

“Fuck him,” he retorts.

My jaw tics. “She’s young, younger than our baby sister.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” he says before adding, “And apparently, it doesn’t matter to you either.”

I clench my fists. “She’s not my type.”

“Again, you don’t seem to care.”

“She’s yours,” I say finally, my fists clenched so hard—so fucking hard—that my knuckles pulse.

“And somehow”—his jaw moves back and forth—“you still want her.”

Keeping my gaze steady, I tell him the truth, “Yeah.”

And that’s why I’m doing this.

That’s why I’m going behind his back.

Because I want to put an end to this madness. I want to put an end to this want, this craving, this uncontrollable desire for her. Because even though I think she belongs to me, she doesn’t.

She belongs to him.

He loves her. He’s my brother.

He should have her.

I’m the villain in this story, not him.

“I do,” I continue, without taking my eyes off him. “I do want her. I’ve always wanted her. But you’re my brother. My twin brother.”

His eyes are narrowed, his jaw tight as he bites out, “So?”

“So as I said, she’s yours. And she’ll stay yours,” I promise.

After I’ve made her mine.

After I’ve used her and thrust her aside.

It’s not the most selfless thing in the world, but it’s the only thing that will put an end to this all. The only thing that will get me my peace back, my life back. The only thing that will save my control and stop me from turning dangerous and destroying my brother.

With that promise in mind, I go back to the hotel. I run. I lift weights. I shower. I pretend to find a book to read. I open the first page and then abandon it to look at the time. I watch the clock as I wait for her call on my brother’s phone like I do every night. When it doesn’t come, I pick it up and stab the keys on the screen, firing off a couple of texts.


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