Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
I study her and her gaze drops to her lap, where she picks at an imaginary thread on her dress. “I like you. You’re honest and pure.” I don’t know why I’m telling her all of this, but I want her to open up to me. I want to be here for her through this hard time.
Those pretty emerald eyes shoot back up to mine. “I like you too.” Her cheeks tinge pink.
My heart pounds in my ears as my gaze drops to her lips, and I trace a lazy circle over her soft skin with my thumb. I prickle at the thought that her jackass of a boyfriend didn’t bother bringing her to the funeral today.
“I should get you back,” I say, removing my hand. “I’m sure your boyfriend is worried about you.”
Her posture stiffens. “Oh, yeah.”
“Is he working?” I rise from the bench. “Is that why he didn’t come to the funeral with you?”
She jumps from the bench like it bit her on the ass and she’s skittish as she falls in step beside me. “Mm-hmm. Work.”
When we get to my car, I’m burning with questions about the asshole who couldn’t take the day off work to be there for his girl.
If she were mine, I would have stood next to her. Been there for her. Fucking taken care of her.
And maybe that’s why I’m upset. Because she’s his girl.
All those questions die on the tip of my tongue as I open the door for her and she slides into the front seat. My mind plays back the reel of her dancing for me. Does she dance for him?
Jealousy has me in its grip when I hop into the car and fire up the engine.
I peel away like I’m in the Indy 500. Like I can outrun these feelings she’s stirring up in me and the inevitability they’ll be my demise.
“You should slow down,” Swan says, clutching the door handle like it’s a lifeline.
I glance at the speedometer and see I’m going ninety. “Shit. Sorry.” I lift my foot from the accelerator and plow into the danger zone. “Why didn’t your boyfriend come to the funeral with you?” My knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. “Or better… for you?”
She twists her hands in her lap, staring straight ahead. “He had to work.”
Silence stretches between us until I pull next to her car on the street.
“Thanks for the distraction from everything,” she says, fumbling with the door handle.
Distraction. Deep down, the rational part of me knows she means a distraction from the funeral, but the irrational part can’t stop thinking about whether I’m a distraction from the boyfriend.
I place my finger under her chin, directing her attention back to me. “Did you do what I said?”
“What?”
“That night you danced for me. Did you go home and slip under your covers?” My voice comes out husky, and I lean an inch closer. “Were you my greedy girl?” My cock pulses to life, and tonight, I’ll need to jerk off twice as hard as the night she danced for me.
“Yes, I was,” she whispers.
I’m so turned on I nearly kiss the fuck out of her, but I know I can’t. Anger blurs my vision.
Goddamn. “Get out of my car,” I snap at her, furious over my weakness.
So weak.
Her eyes flash with anger, her mouth opening and closing like she has something to say, but nothing comes out except a pissed off growl. She finally opens the door and rushes out.
Fuck. I blow out a long, ragged breath. I had to kick her out of my car, because I was too afraid I’d kiss her if she stayed a second longer. Her scent lingers, suffocating me with its innocence, and I yank at my tie, watching her drive away from the gravesite.
She’s taken.
I’m right in kicking her out.
Even if she thinks I’m an asshole. I guess it’s better if she does.
Five days have passed since Luna’s funeral, and I still catch myself expecting to see her in my club. Understandably, it’s a slow Monday night at Club Greed, so the twins and Adele have convened in my office for a meeting. I’d wanted to close the club down, but Ledger and Roman talked me out of it.
They said the only way to catch this asshole is by leaving our front doors open. By placing an enticing jar of honey just inside and trapping him. Hopefully, the fucker is a bee.
“I don’t understand how throwing a party is a good idea,” Adele snips, looking like she’s going to stomp her five-inch heel on Roman’s face. The murders are taking a toll on everyone, and I understand her frustration.
“A party is excellent bait,” Roman answers before puffing his cigar.
Ledger dangles his whiskey glass over the arm of the wingback chair he’s sitting in, wisely letting his brother handle Adele, who is clutching a clipboard to her chest. She loves her clipboards.