Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Cash was there the next day, him and Cyrus giving me a bit of light and sweet among all the somewhat dark and serious that was Roan, Edison, Reeve, Lazarus, and Renny who - I got the feeling - was trying to suss me out. Roderick said it was a habit of his, trying to figure out what made people tick, why they did the things they did, what motivated them. It was a game for him. One he often took too seriously. So to beat him at it, I just gave him my story, leaving out the abundance of detail I had given Roderick, but giving him enough that he stopped looking at me like he wanted to poke at me until I combusted.
Not long after he showed up, so did Lo with a teenaged girl trailing behind her.
And I saw it in her.
The way I had seen it in Astrid.
The damage.
But also the potential.
And after only five minutes of talking with Lo, I realized she was just the person to take that potential, pull it to the surface, make it shine.
I'd briefly met Jstorm - whose reputation I knew because Astrid knew it - and her man Wolf who, in some ways, reminded me of Cam, making me miss him so much that it ached. We hadn't been apart this long since we had met all those years before. It was strange to be away from my people. I couldn't help but wonder if the sink was overflowing, if the mail had been picked up from the box, if anyone had remembered to drop the check for the rent in the mail.
But Astrid called. And always assured me that everything was okay even if mama was out of town.
She would probably tell me the same thing Roderick was, that I was overthinking this. that I should just be myself and if they don't like me, to hell with them.
Normally that would be my response. But I couldn't say to hell with his mother and sisters - these women who meant the world to him.
I needed them to at least like me enough to accept me. Because, quite frankly, they probably had a lot of pull in Roderick's life. Their opinions likely meant a lot to him. I didn't know what that would mean for me - for us - if they just put their feet down and said they all hated me.
"Let me up. I have to get changed real quick. I don't want to be late," I told him, giving him a quick peck to the lips to try to soften the somewhat harsh tone to my voice. Nervousness, apparently, made me a bit snippy. It was interesting the things you learned about yourself when in a new relationship. It wasn't all pretty, but they were all parts of me that I maybe never would have gotten to know if not for him.
I dug through my bag, finding the long A-line sage green skirt Astrid had packed for me for some reason, dragging out a white tank top and sweater she had as well, deciding it toed that line between casual and trying too hard perfectly.
I had just wiggled out of my pants, leaving me there in my bra and panties when Roderick moved into the bathroom, giving my reflection a small smile as he moved behind me.
"You're practically twitching," he informed me as though I couldn't feel that about myself. "I know how to calm you down, mami," he declared, fingers hooking my panties, dragging them down over my ass.
"We don't have time to..."
"To help you relax so you don't have a panic attack on my mother's doorstep for no reason? We do. We have the time," he told me even as his finger traced up my slit, making a tremble move through me, my body so overwrought that it was overly sensitive to every slight brush.
"Wet already," his voice rumbled through his chest as his finger pressed inside me, making a slow, deep breath escape me, all thoughts of worry washing away under the growing anticipation, pleasure, the promise of oblivion. "You want more, mami?" he asked, lips on my earlobe before his teeth sank in a bit, making my ass slam back into him, begging for more.
"Yes." My voice sounded choked, desperate.
"Yes, what? What do you want?"
"Quiero que estés dentro de mi."
I want you inside me.
A growl moved through him at that, a sound that made my sex tighten.
I didn't - as he did - slip into Spanish often. Likely because, unlike him, I didn't have people around me, people close to me who spoke it. So while I occasionally used it when talking to a client or some random person at a store or restaurant, it wasn't something that came so naturally to me anymore.