Oracle (Cerberus MC #30) Read Online Marie James

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Cerberus MC Series by Marie James
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Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
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She was an absolute champ, coming along and helping as much as she could. She stuck close to Misty, and I’m thankful for Shadow’s wife for making her feel so welcomed. She gave her something to do when Beth asked rather than telling her she had it handled and letting her flounder.

We’re on the last stretch toward home, and I only have one single thing on my mind right now, and it’s currently warm and pressed against the back of my jeans. My skin feels like it’s on fire, and I want nothing more than to get back and get out of these scratchy clothes. I want my mouth on her skin, my fingers exploring every inch of her body.

I pull one hand from the handlebars and grip her thigh at my side. Her hold on me tightens, and I don’t know if it’s because she wants me as badly as I want her or if it’s because I’m riding with only one hand. I remove my hand from her, not wanting to scare her if it’s the latter. Less than five minutes later, we’re pulling onto Cerberus property.

Her pretty smile is still in place when she climbs off the bike and pulls her helmet from her head.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask, pulling off my helmet.

“I’m excited for whoever gets to wrap those gifts,” she answers, hitching her thumb over her shoulder as the second SUV pulls into the lot and parks. “Did you see how they had to wedge the toys from that last stop in there? That’s exciting stuff.”

“Wrapping gifts? That’s what thrills you?”

She chews the inside of her cheek before answering. “I mean, it’s not the only thing, but yeah. Silly, huh?”

I shake my head and take a step closer to her. “Not silly at all. I just thought most people hated the wrapping part of gift giving. I’m sure Misty and Em will let you help. I wasn’t here last year, but they’re always needing help in some form.”

She gives me a small, sad smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, and I can feel the distance she’s putting between us despite her standing still.

Her reaction is like ice cold water being thrown in my face. I know what we’re doing has an expiration date. I know she can pull the plug at any point, and that honestly might be powerful enough to give me ulcers with worry.

I pull in a deep breath, my chest expanding with the effort, before cupping her face to make sure I have her full attention before speaking.

“They aren’t even going to unload those toys tonight. You can help them tomorrow.”

She dips her head with the smallest of nods in understanding, but I get a sense that her quick change in mood has less to do with the toys and something else running through her head. Unwilling to let her get lost in those racing thoughts, I run my hand down her shoulder and arm until her fingers tangle with mine.

“Let’s go get showered,” I urge. “I’ve got something to show you.”

I raise an eyebrow when her gaze drifts down to my mouth.

“Exactly,” I whisper, my mouth turning up at the corners when she begins to smile, catching my meaning.

“How did you like your first ride?” Gigi asks, approaching us before we can make it to the front steps to enter the clubhouse.

“It was thrilling and a little scary,” Beth tells her.

Since she’s pregnant and Hound would never let her on the back of a bike right now, she stayed back at the clubhouse, helping some of the others with the kids.

“The club picked up so many toys. I loved being a part of that. It gives me that hint of home without actually having to be at home,” Beth continues.

“Kindness exists outside of Texas,” Gigi says, but she has a smile on her face, so it doesn’t feel like a defensive response. “There’s my man.”

Without a see you later, Gigi moves as fast as her round belly will allow. With the way Hound picks her up and holds her to his body, you’d think they’d been separated for weeks instead of a handful of hours.

“They’re intense,” Beth says, her eyes locked on the kissing couple.

“Most of the couples around here are,” I explain, once again getting us moving with a gentle tug to her hand. “Let’s go to our room.”

She seems fine until we cross the threshold into the bedroom, and then something changes in her.

I swallow, my pulse kicking up. This is it. This is going to be the moment she says she’s done playing house and pretending.

“You’re thinking too hard,” I tell her, trying to combat whatever she might be gearing up to tell me. “I don’t see a problem with what we’re doing. It’s fun. We’re just having fun.”


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