Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“You should be angry. You should be telling me to go fuck myself.”
She pulls a face and mutters, “I’m getting close. Your sister needed you, Whit. It’s not like you left me to make my way home with my ass hanging out. What do you want me to say? Do you want me to soothe your feelings, your little peccadillos? Tell you that you’re a good man? A good brother? There, I said it. Do you feel better now?”
“No,” I say, taking a predatory step closer. “My peccadillos aren’t small.” A flash of mockery sounds in my head. Better to convince her. “I don’t feel very good about any of this.” She startles a little, inhaling a gasp as she steps back. “Maybe you should ask my sisters what kind of brother I am.”
“I know what they’d say. You’re a good one. Dependable and… and considerate.” I take another step. Mimi takes another back.
“Yes, a good brother. Like the time Primrose fell off her bike. She bumped her head.”
“I’m beginning to wonder if she wasn’t the only one.”
“I picked her up and kissed her knee better. Is there anywhere you’d like me to kiss you better, Amelia?”
She gives her head a tiny shake as though doubting her own ears.
“You’re thinking about it.” I huff an unhappy chuckle. “And God knows you’re not the only one. I would drown myself in you, Amelia. Gorge on you until only your sighs remain.”
“Are you trying to frighten me or turn me on?”
“That’s just the thing. I’m not sure anymore. I’ve tried being brotherly. I’ve tried being a pain. I’ve even tried being considerate, tried to do the right thing, but you thwart me at every turn.” I know these sound like complaints, but they’re actually more like compliments. She knows it, too, as her lips tip upward.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thwarted anyone in my life.”
I reach out, wrapping my fingers around her elbow. “I can only think you haven’t been paying enough attention. Saved by the Bentley,” I add as the company’s SUV pulls quietly up to the curb. I suppose George must’ve spotted us from where he was parked.
“Maybe I don’t want to be saved,” she says softly.
“And maybe I don’t want to fuck you in a cold back lane,” I lie.
I ignore her shock as the car pulls up, and the driver’s door closes with a heavy thunk as he slips out.
“Hello, George.” Mimi’s expression reflects surprise as he opens the rear passenger door. “You’re working late tonight.”
“Overtime.” I glance over my shoulder just in time to see him shoot her the kind of wink that would earn a younger man a punch to the ribs.
“Gotta make hay when the sun—moon—shines.” Adjusting my hold on her arm, I turn her toward the rear of the car.
“Gov’nor,” George says with a decisive nod as Mimi slides inside. “Looks like someone got you a good one,” he says, tapping his jaw.
“You should see the other guy.” Mimi ducks in the seat, her flushed expression appearing at the other door. “The man was huge, and Whit—”
“Narrowly avoided extensive dental work.”
“You look like you came out on the right side of it,” he says, moving around the car with the kind of quick march that reveals his military history. He doesn’t bother opening my door. It took months for me to persuade him my arms aren’t ornaments.
“My hero,” Mimi whispers as I climb in next to her.
“It might easily have worked out very differently.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t.”
“He definitely had ’roid rage,” I murmur, gingerly touching my jaw. I feel very far from a hero or a good man right now.
“Road rage?” she asks, confused.
“’Roids,” I qualify, sliding her a look. “He looked the type to be a steroid abuser. If you were looking to take someone home, better to look for a man who doesn’t walk around like he has a rolled carpet shoved under each arm.”
“Oh my God, he did look like that, right?” She gives a ridiculously adorable giggle, deliberately refusing to take the bait. I decide to be a little blunter.
“He wouldn’t have been able to reach his dick, never mind fuck you with it.”
And then sledgehammer blunt.
And because it’s just that kind of moment, George climbs into the driver’s seat in time to hear my less-than-eloquent summing up of the situation. His wide eyes meet my unhappy ones in the rearview mirror, though he glances quickly away. A second later, the Bentley starts with a throaty purr.
Fuck this—why am I’m feeling uncomfortable? George is a hardened East Londoner, so I bet he hears worse language on a daily basis. Shit, I bet his five-year-old grandson has said worse at the breakfast table. Maybe not about steroid abuse.
While George might not be embarrassed, when I turn to Mimi, her jaw seems to have unhinged. Which is weird, because that’s exactly how she makes me feel. Fucking deranged with lust and the need to shake some sense into her. I don’t know whether I’m on my arse or my elbow with her. I don’t know whether I want to fuck her or spank her.