Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
He offered a smug smile.
“I know you’re on the pill,” he said. “So pregnancy’s not the issue. Also know you’re clean. You’re my woman, so why shouldn’t I feel you around me? And I swear to you, babe. I have never, ever fucked anyone without protection before. I even donated blood about two weeks ago—all clear.”
“That’s a relief,” I said, straightening. I looked around for my panties and shorts. They’d landed near the toilet, dripping water everywhere.
“How do you know I’m on the pill?” I asked, reaching for a towel to wrap around myself.
“Found ’em in your purse,” he said without a hint of shame. I looked up, startled.
“Why were you in my purse?” I asked, not pleased.
“To get your phone,” he replied, tucking himself back into his pants. “I wanted to set up the GPS on it.”
I stopped cold.
“You have GPS tracking my phone?” I asked, incredulous. “What the hell is wrong with you? You want to chip me like a dog, too?”
“I want to be able to find you if there’s an emergency,” he said, his face growing serious. “I know it sounds paranoid, but we had a real bad situation last winter … Marie and Horse would be dead right now if I hadn’t had GPS on her. Nearly died as it was. Now I do it for all the girls in the club. Don’t worry, I don’t spy on you or anything. But it’ll be there if you ever get in trouble.”
“I don’t even know where to start,” I said, closing my eyes. I was exhausted, I realized. No wonder my brain wouldn’t kick in and tell me what to do.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said. “I’m tired. You’re tired.”
“I’ll sleep downstairs,” I told him, clutching the towel as I reached for my clothes.
“You’ll sleep up here with me,” he replied. “You can fight me on it and lose, which is more work for both of us, or you can just give in. Gonna end the same either way.”
I looked at him and knew he was right. I’d set him straight later—right now I needed rest.
“Can I borrow something to wear?” I asked, trying not to yawn. “I’m too tired to go get dry stuff.”
“I’d rather you sleep naked.”
“I’d rather you go fuck yourself, but seeing as that’s not an option, can I borrow something to wear?”
He smiled at me.
“Knock yourself out. Shirts are in the top drawer, underwear in the second one down.”
I left the bathroom and looked around to find his dresser. Sure enough, the top drawer held a variety of T-shirts. I found one with a Reapers symbol on it and pulled it out. Then I moved down to the next drawer. Most of his stuff was black or gray, but a flash of pink in the back caught my eye.
What the hell?
I pulled out a pair of silky, pink panties.
“Jesus, Ruger,” I said. “Is there anywhere in this house women don’t leave their lingerie? It’s like a damned Victoria’s Secret in here!”
I turned to him, holding the panties out with two fingers, disgusted. He cocked his head and gave me a strange smile.
“Those are yours, actually,” he said slowly. “You left them behind.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That first night,” he said. “With Zach. You left them in my apartment. Had ’em ever since.”
I froze, and studied them more closely. It’d been a long time, but they did look familiar. I’d been so sad to lose them, because I’d bought them special …
“I can’t decide if that’s just a little bit creepy or really, super creepy,” I said finally, glancing over at him. He shrugged, eyes holding mine steady.
“You asked me the other night if wanting you was a new thing,” he said, his face free of mockery for once. “It’s not a new thing, babe. Not a new thing at all.”
I woke suddenly, wondering where the hell I was. A strong, masculine arm lay across my stomach, pinning me down. A vaulted cedar ceiling rose overhead. I turned to see Ruger lying facedown next to me, and it all came back in a rush.
I needed to get out of here before he woke up and started in on his you’re-my-woman-and-I-own-you bullshit. I couldn’t afford to play around anymore—Noah had been through enough already.
Lifting his arm cautiously, I rolled out of bed and turned to look at his sleeping form. Ruger’s back was half covered by the sheet, and for the first time I had the chance to study his ink in full light. His perfectly sculpted body wasn’t just sexy. It was literally a work of art. His arms were a mass of patterns and designs so intricate I had trouble following them, but dominating his right bicep was a picture of what had to be Noah’s Ark. The animals marching away from it were fantastical, dragons and demons and snakes, but the Ark itself was unmistakable.