Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
The sad fact is I'm kind of a mess right now. The last week of my life feels like a runaway train barreling toward some conclusion I can't see. I'm not used to not being in control. I'm not used to feeling helpless. Quite frankly, it sucks.
I feel like a little girl again, watching my world slowly descend into chaos.
Back then, our dad tried so hard to shield us from the worst of it. But he couldn't hide the fact that reporters followed us. He couldn't hide the whispers from kids at school. We knew a lot more about what Marion did than we should have. We kept a lot of the truth from him, trying to shield him too. But it wasn't easy.
I don't like feeling helpless again now.
"Tate," Cormac murmurs.
"Tate?"
"The Nashville Predators have been regular clients since my dad and uncles started the business, and his uncle was a Predator," he says. "When Bender and Angel needed security, his uncle recommended my family."
"My Aunt Stella's sister is married to a former Predator."
"Yeah?" Cormac pours lighter fluid onto the grill, glancing at me over his shoulder.
"I guess there really aren't any strangers in the south, huh?" I say, smiling.
"Nah, baby. It's just further proof that you and I were meant to be," he says, tossing a match onto the grill. The lighter fluid catches with a whoosh, sending flames up toward the sky. Cormac jumps back with a startled curse.
"What did you expect to happen?" I ask through laughter. "You used half a thing of lighter fluid."
He turns a devastating smirk on me, flashing those dimples. "I like fire."
"And I like edible steak."
"You questioning my grilling abilities, little girl?"
"Um, did you miss the giant flame that just singed your eyebrows off?"
He immediately reaches up to check his eyebrows and then growls at me when he realizes they're both still fully intact. He abandons the grill, stalking across the back deck toward me. The wood vibrates beneath his heavy steps.
"What are you doing?" I ask, breathless at the intense gleam in his eyes.
"Coming to kiss that fucking smile off your face."
"Cormac," I whisper.
"Say my name like that again, and our guests are going to see some things they definitely aren't going to survive seeing, Mischief," he growls. His gaze prowls down my body. "You fell asleep on the couch last night. I didn't get to kiss Snoopy goodnight."
Oh. Wow. It's entirely possible to orgasm without being touched.
"Cormac."
He snarls, lunging for me. Somehow, I end up in his arms with my legs around his waist and my back against the wall. His gray eyes bore into mine, his upper lip curled back from his teeth. His breath comes in harsh pants.
"You laugh, and the fucking angels sing, Mischief."
"Shut up and kiss me, Tiny."
"Nah. You kiss me this time."
I spear my hands into his hair, eagerly dragging his mouth down to mine. All day, I've been dying for another taste of him. But he's been on his best behavior today. We went for a walk earlier, and he showed me where the ravine is. He also showed me an emergency escape route off the property. I think he's trying to prove that he trusts me.
Instead, he's making me fall in love with him. It's terrifying. I'm not supposed to love him. I'm not supposed to want to stay right here in this bubble with him. And yet…and yet I do. My life is in Tennessee. That's always been my home. Except the longer I'm here, the more this begins to feel like home. The more he begins to feel like home.
If any part of Marion exists in me, I'm terrified it's going to rear its ugly head and destroy everything. What if I fall too hard? What if I need him too much? What if love makes me ugly and bitter and hateful as it made her? I don't want to be those things. God help me, I want to be his Mischief. Just his.
His tongue touches mine, and my fears fall quiet again, silenced by the power of his kiss, by the intensity of his touch. By the power of him. I drag him closer, moaning into his mouth, desperate for more of him. I want the feel of him seared into my brain, the imprint of his hands branded into my flesh. I want him all over me so when he's not there, I still feel him.
"Goddamn, Bella," he growls, bucking his hips into mine when I bite his bottom lip. "I'm going to tear Snoopy from your perfect body if you keep it up."
"I'm not wearing Snoopy today."
"Who?" he demands.
"Maybe I'm not wearing panties at all."
His eyes narrow, hot possession sweeping through them. "You better have my pussy covered, little girl," he growls, pinning my hips to the wall with his as he leans back, readjusting me with his hands around my waist. Once I'm where he wants me, he grabs the band of my leggings—a black pair with little stars on them that the wives picked out for me—and starts rolling it down.