Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“James? Beau?”
I withdraw, startled. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” she asks, trying to pull me back onto her mouth. Of course, I oblige, kissing her again, but my ears are listening. Yet all I can hear are Beau’s indulgent moans.
Bang!
The sound of the door flying open and hitting the wall makes me jump and Beau squeal.
“Oh, shit,” Brad says, as I look over my shoulder, finding him standing in the doorway. “Sorry.” But he doesn’t move, just fucking stands there like a plum, while I ensure every part of me is covering every part of Beau. “Nice ass.”
“You better be talking about mine,” I warn, trying to gage exactly what of Beau’s is on display. She laughs, wrapping her arms and legs around me as I drag down a sheet from the bed and work on covering her. “I hope for your sake this is an emergency, Brad.” I fight back the blood flowing into my dick and leave Beau with all the covers, standing, bollock naked. Brad’s eyes fall to my semi-erect cock, and I lay a hand over it protectively as I walk across to the chair, grabbing some boxers.
“It is an emergency.” He turns and leaves the room. “Something’s wrong with Danny.”
My head drops back, my face pained, part discomfort—my dick aching—part exasperation. I yank on my boxers and go to Beau, pulling her up from the floor and kissing her hard on the lips. “Get a shower.”
“No, thanks.” She slips past me, tucking the sheet in. “I want to know what’s up with Danny too.”
I’d like to tell everyone that he’s simply got a bastard hangover, that they’re all worrying over nothing, but I know as well as anyone that there’s more to it. I follow and find Beau pouring juice out of the blender into glasses. Her mobile rings, and she looks at the screen. I see a shift in her stance.
“Who is it?” I ask, trying not to sound accusing.
“My dad. I’ll call him back.” She refuses to look at me. Her fucking father. Prick. He’s the only bit of Beau I don’t like.
“Have you seen Danny?” Brad asks me, getting comfortable on a stool.
“Yes, I’ve seen him. I was with him this afternoon.” I take the stool next to him and accept the glass Beau slides across to me.
“I just left their place.”
“And?” I ask.
“Let’s just say, the Antarctic is looking pretty fucking appealing for a summer vacation right now.” Brad grimaces at me as I down the juice. “What is that shit?”
“Try some,” Beau says, pushing a glass toward him. “It’ll make you big, strong, and healthy.”
“I’m already big, strong, and healthy. And”—he strokes across his stubble—“good-looking too.”
Beau rolls her eyes. “You need more in your life than the gym and a strip club.”
“Like what?”
“A woman,” she says, splitting her attention between Brad and her juice, her eyebrow arched. “Or a long-standing one, at least.”
“What the fuck?” Brad murmurs, looking at me. I can only shrug. He returns his attention to Beau, smiling, like she just doesn’t get it. “Beau, sweethe—”
“Do not call me sweetheart, Brad. Not if you want to keep your balls.”
I laugh into my glass. “That told you.”
“Beau,” he begins again. “My beautiful, ninja friend.” He raises a brow and Beau nods agreeably, going back to her juice. “Why the fuck would I want to do that?” He laughs. “Jesus, we’re becoming outnumbered.”
“We’re?” Beau asks, her glass paused at her lips.
“The men,” he confirms, as if she needed it. The poor, clueless twat. “We’re supposed to be mafia, and soon there will be more women in this mafia family than men. We can’t have that.”
“No, no, we can’t have that,” Beau breathes, setting down her glass. “Now, if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something,” she says, motioning down her sheet-covered body and to my naked chest.
Brad looks wholly unimpressed as he turns away from Beau to me. “Want a beer?”
I recoil. “Do I want a beer?” I parrot. “Now?” He is one brave man.
“Yes, we need to talk about Danny.”
Beau snorts and rounds the island, grabbing Brad by the ear, literally, and dragging him up from his seat. “Out,” she demands, switching her hold to his arm and twisting it, getting it up his back in one swift, effective move.
“Arhhhh!”
She ignores him, pushing his helpless body toward the door as I watch on, amused.
“Jesus, fuck, Beau!” Brad bends back awkwardly, trying to lessen the pain. “That fucking hurts.”
She shoves him outside and slams the door.
“That’s why I won’t get a woman,” he yells from beyond the wood. “You’re all fucking pussy-whipped, you pathetic fuckers.”
Beau hauls the door open again, growls, and Brad, quite wisely, backs away. “I can’t watch?” He just can’t help himself, and I laugh as Beau grabs the nearest thing to her—which happens to be a shoe—and chucks it at his head.