On the Wild Side (The Wilds of Montana #4) Read Online Kristen Proby

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Sports, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Wilds of Montana Series by Kristen Proby
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Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95273 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
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“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask as I pump some lotion from the bottle I set on the end table into the palm of my hand and then lift her foot onto my lap and start to rub. “Or do you just want to relax?”

“Holy Christ on a cracker, you’ve been holding out on me if you can rub feet like that.” Her smile is soft and sweet, and then she shrugs a shoulder. “There wasn’t anything terrible that happened, aside from the fact that three people quit on the same day, didn’t give me notice, and now I’m severely short-handed. I just got all of the positions filled, and I thought I’d be able to coast through the summer, but no. Not to mention, now I have an odd number of employees again, and I won’t let anyone work alone, so that means that I have to help until I can get someone else in. Which means that laundry gets stacked up.”

She pops some popcorn into her mouth and chews.

“I’ll figure it out. It’s just a pain in the ass and long hours. Thank God for Merilee and my hot cowboy.”

I fucking love it when she calls me cowboy.

“Did you and Daisy have fun?” she asks me.

“There was pizza with a view, so of course, we did. She’s great, Abs. No worries there.”

“Good. And you’re right, I do have a great kid. Where do you head off to next?”

I frown down at her foot. I’d rather not have to talk about leaving again, but this is our life for the next few months.

I can’t avoid it forever.

“Wyoming.” My thumbs move up the outside of her foot and circle her ankle, making her groan with pleasure. And that little groan makes my dick twitch. “Give me your other foot.”

She sets her bowl and wine aside and then shakes her head. “I have a better idea.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

ABBI

“You do?” Brady asks, his eyebrows climbing as I crawl over the couch and straddle his lap. His hands land on my ass as I wrap my arms around his neck and lean in so I can bury my face against him. “And what is that, sweetheart?”

“I need you inside of me.” I’m too tired to flirt and play games. I’ve had the shittiest of shit days, and right now, I want my man, naked, inside of me, making me forget all about it. “Not that the massage isn’t nice, but—whoa!”

I’m cut off when he simply stands, hands still on my ass, and carries me up the stairs. He groans a bit, and I pull back to see his face.

“You’re hurting.”

“I’m fine,” he says and kisses me firmly. “And as much as I want to fuck you until your legs shake and all of Bitterroot Valley knows my name, I can’t do that with your daughter asleep upstairs, so I’m taking you to a room that I can lock.”

“Smart. You’re a smart man, Cowboy.”

He grins, closes and locks my bedroom door, and then sets me on my feet.

Without hesitation, I strip out of my clothes. “No games tonight. I can’t take the time to flirt and be…cute. I just need you, Brady.”

“You’re always cute.” He unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of his fucking stellar torso.

Muscles for days and smooth skin make my mouth water.

The scars remind me that what he does for a living scares the shit out of me.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he growls, watching me with hooded eyes, “and I won’t last ten seconds.”

“You usually last at least eight.”

He smirks at that, and then we’re naked and on my bed, lying facing each other with my leg hitched up on his hip and his hand in my hair, holding me where he wants me so he can kiss the ever-loving fuck out of me.

No one kisses like Brady Wild.

His lips are soft, but he’s confident and sure about what he wants from me. His tongue isn’t too aggressive and slides against mine, making everything in me tighten with need.

“I’m going to make you want to scream,” he whispers as he kisses his way along my jawline. “I’m going to make sure that you never forget exactly who you belong to.”

Holy shit.

Belong to him? Belong to him. The feminist in me, the independent woman, should bristle at that and remind him that I belong to myself, thank you very much.

But his hand glides down my spine to my ass, pulling me more firmly against him where the hard length of his need presses against my stomach, and I know without a doubt that if I’ve ever belonged to anyone in my life, it’s to this man.

I am Brady Wild’s, and he’ll have my heart until the end of the time. It’s as simple and as scary as that.


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