Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
“Jesus fuck, that’s a recipe for diabetes,” Tank grumbled under his breath, making me quietly laugh to myself. But still, I heard him rummaging around, following the instructions I’d given him. My breath hitched in my throat when he suddenly came up behind me, the front of his body pressing into my back. All I could focus on was the heat radiating off of him and how his much bigger frame covered me. Swallowed me whole.
“Here,” he murmured, his breath fanning over my ear as he leaned over me just a little to set the coffee mug down on the counter in front of me. I blinked, trying to bring my brain back online. “Taste it and tell me how I did.”
I was thankful my hands didn’t shake as I grabbed the mug in both of my hands and lifted it to my lips, letting the heat seep into my fingertips. When I sipped it, I sighed, my eyes fluttering shut.
It was perfect.
“This is so good,” I moaned, taking another sip. Tank made a noise behind me—something a mix between a moan and a choke. I tightened my hold on my mug, my breath hitching in my throat when I felt his cock swell against my ass. But just as fast as his body had reacted, he stepped back from me as if I’d burned him.
I didn’t turn to face him, no matter how much I wanted to. I wanted to see his face, but I was also afraid to see rejection there. And fuck, I couldn’t handle that—not today. Not after the shitty few months I’d had. I wanted to stay stuck in delulu-land for as long as possible.
“I’ll get the table set up if you want to wake Clarke,” Tank finally rumbled.
I nodded quickly and set my mug down before darting out of the kitchen as if a rooster was chasing me. When I was in the bedroom, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes, pressing my fingertips against my eyeballs as I drew in a long, shaky breath.
Tank definitely wanted me—or at least, his body did. But what about the rest of him—the part that actually mattered?
Blowing out a soft breath, I leaned my head back against the wall and dropped my hands, opening my eyes to stare up at the ceiling. I needed to get myself together. Now was not the time to be wanting Tank. Fuck, I could barely even admit to Clarke how I felt about her, and here I was, adding another man into the mix.
What I needed to focus on right now was surviving this and getting free—completely free. Living a life where protection wasn’t needed. That was what was important.
My yearning for Tank had to stop.
10
Tank
Clarke scarfed down the breakfast Beck made us like she’d never eaten something so good before. And honestly… the food was damn good. Beck was great in the kitchen. If there’d been more to eat, I probably would’ve scarfed that down, too, and that wasn’t just because my stomach was basically a bottomless pit.
The boy had a gift for cooking.
The only thing that made breakfast suck was that Beck avoided my gaze as if looking at me would make him burn alive on the spot and he was trying to protect himself. But fuck, I hadn’t meant to react to him like that—not where he could feel me, anyway. But the way he’d moaned after taking a sip of the coffee I made him, it sent all my blood rushing to my cock before I was even fully aware of it.
Unfortunately, that one slip-up, not moving back from him fast enough, had fucked up everything. Did he even trust me anymore? I couldn’t properly protect him if he didn’t trust me one hundred percent to take care of him and keep him safe… even from me.
Fuck, I’d never do anything to him. Nothing he didn’t want, at least. I would never do anything to make him or Clarke feel unsafe.
But I had already, hadn’t I? Unintentionally, for sure, but I’d definitely broken a little bit of the trust Beck had in me.
Goddammit.
Rolling my neck around, I finished drying the last dish before putting it away and hanging the now-damp dish-drying towel over the oven door handle to let it air dry. My fingers twitched with the urge to grab my phone, but I didn’t have it. We didn’t have anything here to get in touch with anyone back home. We were temporarily disconnected from the club because it was the safest thing for Beck and Clarke, but I hated not knowing what was going on. Hated feeling like I couldn’t properly prepare for anything that may come our way.
Beck came into the kitchen and paused when he spotted me, his fingers twitching at his sides. Eventually, he decided to step further into the room, leaning down to grab a bottle of water from the case on the floor. He turned to leave the kitchen, but then he blew out a harsh breath and turned back around to face me, his hand white-knuckling the still-closed water bottle. If he tightened his grip any more, that bottle was liable to explode.