The Commander (Men of Hidden Justice #3) Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Men of Hidden Justice Series by Melanie Moreland
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 341(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
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I looked around and made a decision. She wasn’t coming back here. Ever.

Tally looked at me. “What?”

I had spoken my thoughts out loud.

“Nothing.” I knew she’d fight me on it, and I didn’t want to fight with her today.

“I heard you.” She slammed her hands on her hips, glaring at me. There was a spark in her eye and a defiant scowl on her face. Color saturated her cheeks, and she was determined. Furious at my unsolicited decision. She was extremely sexy when she was pissed at me. My cock thickened at her incensed beauty.

Maybe I did want to fight.

“Take what you need for now. I’ll come get the rest later.”

She stepped closer, the pissed-off kitten becoming a lioness.

She poked me in the chest. “I don’t think so, asshole. You can’t just walk in here, make a decision based on your snotty ideas, and expect me to fall in line with it.” She poked me again. “You’re not the boss of me.”

I took her hand, lifting it to my mouth. I kissed the palm, then turned it over, kissing the knuckles.

“I think you’re wrong there, Tally. I am your boss.” I tugged her a little closer. “And you like it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she hissed, trying not to give in. But I saw the way her eyes darkened, and her voice wavered a little.

I kissed her wrist, letting my tongue graze over the tender skin. “You’re coming home with me, and you’re not coming back here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to stay with you.” Her voice wobbled a little.

I dragged her to my chest, lowering my head and kissing the edge of her mouth, feeling the way her lips trembled. “I think you do.”

Her fingers flexed on my shoulders.

“I think you want to come home with me. But first, I think you want me to toss you on that little bed over there and fuck you,” I whispered in her ear, nipping at her lobe. “Give you one good memory of this place.”

She whimpered, and I covered her mouth with mine, kissing her until she was shaking in my arms. I stumbled back, falling on the bed, taking her with me so she was on my lap. Her legs splayed wide, surrounding me, and I groaned at the heat of her. She wanted me as much as I wanted her.

But the sudden weight on the bed proved to be too much, and before I knew what was happening, the frame gave away and we were on the floor, jolted and stunned. She was over me, shock registering on her face as our eyes locked. Then she began to giggle. I started to laugh. She buried her head into my neck, her amusement getting louder. I held her tight, sharing it with her.

Finally, she lifted her head, and I cupped her cheeks. Her eyes were sparkling in humor, she was relaxed and at ease, and my breath caught in my throat at her beauty. I wanted to see her like this all the time.

“Come home with me, Tally. Stay. I don’t want you here. I want you with me.”

“Was that so hard to ask?”

I lifted one eyebrow, waiting until she nodded.

“Fine,” she breathed out. “But I’m not giving up my lease. I just paid for this month.”

That was fine. I would make sure by the end of the month, she had no desire to come back here. I already knew by the end of the month, I wouldn’t let her go.

The next morning, secreted in my hidden office, I watched Tally. She wore one of her pretty dresses, her hair down today. An artful scarf was draped around her neck, covering the bruises. The sleeves of her outfit hid the ones on her arms. The only things still visible were her movements, which were a little slow, but most people wouldn’t notice. A small grimace of pain would cross her face if she tried to lift her arms too high. It was already easier for her, but I still hated to see it.

Yesterday, after we’d picked ourselves up off the floor, I put the old frame back together while she gathered some clothing and personal items. On the way out the door, I swiped most of the clothing off the metal rack she used as a closet and put it in the trunk with the bag she had packed. I was amused when she carried out a pile of cushions.

“Your place is so sterile,” she said by way of explanation. She added the blanket from her bed. “My gran made me that.”

I didn’t really care what she brought, as long as it meant she was there. Watching her arrange the cushions on my leather sofa had been amusing, though. In the end, she had put them in the guest room, deciding they didn’t “go at all.” I promised her we could pick other cushions together.


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