Prowl (The Game #12) Read Online Cara Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Game Series by Cara Dee
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 114284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
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What else? I’d cleaned the reptiles’ room and my bedroom. The bed was just waiting for new linens.

I’d fixed the chipped paint on the accent wall where I had the TV too. My sister and I had painted it together a few months ago, and then she’d had a mental breakdown and thrown her phone at it, leaving a white spot right below where the flat-screen was attached. It’d bugged me for weeks. But now it was “marine” blue again, and once the paint dried, I could forget all about it.

ADHD was fun.

But unlike her, I didn’t explode from time to time. I imploded instead.

Sometimes, I wondered if that was worse because I never got an outlet—outside kink. The rage and the panic happened deep within me until I collapsed and had to put myself back together. That was why primal play and sadomasochism were so important to me.

My shrink had told me adults with ADHD were conditioned throughout their lives to suppress any emotional outbursts, and yeah, maybe? I couldn’t really recall. I mean, my parents were amazing and supportive, but I guessed they were only one factor. We were raised by society as well, and nobody wanted to see a grown person freak out in public.

I could think of nothing more embarrassing than losing my composure in front of others.

I righted the remote controls neatly, then adjusted the pillows on the couch. Why did I have them? I threw them in the chair because they were in the way most of the time. Mom had snuck more items into my place than I could count. I sure as hell hadn’t bought the lamp above me either. But I loved that one. Mom knew I needed my home to be cozy, dimly lit, and full of things that matched. I couldn’t stand anything too cluttered, but I did want several items that presented a theme in each room. Like those throw pillows on the couch. The rug, the drapes. The accent wall.

Deep breaths.

The living room was spotless. Or it would be after I’d vacuumed and mopped the floors, though I was saving that for last.

I scratched the side of my head. I should fix lunch. I could meal-prep for next week while I was at it. I’d bought an extra chicken for Corey too. He’d want that the few times he spent the night downstairs.

Ugh. I pressed a hand to the side of my head, where I’d scratched too much all day. With my brain so unsettled and chaotic, it sometimes felt like I had a head full of insects crawling around and wreaking havoc. But my itch couldn’t be scratched.

Irritable and restless, I moved my cleaning party to the kitchen, and my phone buzzed with a message as I hauled a bunch of food out of the fridge, freezer, and cupboards. Over and over, I told myself I couldn’t clear the chaos in my body by cleaning my condo, but that didn’t stop me from trying. Maybe I needed to have my meds adjusted. They should be giving me relief by now.

With the kitchen counter full of chicken, vegetables, fish, rice, crushed tomatoes, pasta, and mozzarella cheese, I took a breather and checked my phone.

Aw, fuck. Nooo. Not him. Anyone but him.

Hey, boy. It’s Ty. Mind accepting my friend request online? I can’t DM you otherwise, and I have some photos from our island fun to share. We need to narrow down our top three.

I swallowed hard and slumped down at the kitchen table.

I’d seen his friend request and avoided it. Bad enough I got alerts from Walker’s activities that evidently involved Ty.

Emotions welled up inside me, and I pushed them all down. I refused to go there. He wasn’t meant to linger in my mind. He belonged in the past. I had no right to miss how fucking affectionate he was in the mornings when we woke up together. I couldn’t afford to be attached.

I couldn’t deceive him any longer either. For a casual week in Florida…? Fine. It hadn’t been my finest moment to lie outright, but there were bigger douchebags out there for as long as I didn’t keep up the charade.

Releasing a heavy breath, I scrubbed a hand over my face and then shook my head. I’d gotten myself into this mess, and now I had to suffer for it. We’d attend the event next weekend and present our photos for that Game or whatever, and then I was gonna disappear. Mclean House wasn’t meant to be long-term for me.

Neither was Macklin, as much as that hurt. But he deserved to move forward and have an all-consuming, loving marriage with his husband and whoever they decided to play with together—Ty included.

One week. I could survive one week of playing nice and keeping my distance without tripping anyone’s radar.


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