Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 441(@300wpm)
Griff doesn’t have a girlfriend, yet. He’s obsessed with his best friend’s little sister Molly. Everyone, except her brother, knows it. Did Margot already ask Griff and he told her he has a girlfriend? Or did she see them hanging out at the wedding and assume they were a couple?
Doesn’t matter.
I won’t correct Margot’s wrong assumption.
No, I’ll have to thank Molly. Apparently, she’s the only thing stopping Griff from being Margot’s sex tutor instead of me.
Because I’m definitely accepting the job.
CHAPTER TEN
Margot
Silence rules the rest of the ride to my house.
Why did I say that about Griff? To make Jigsaw jealous so that he’d say yes to my proposal?
It’s like I’ve been on a downward doom spiral ever since I saw Daniel. You’re like a corpse in bed just keeps replaying in my head on an endless loop. If I could just find someone to learn or practice with, so that when I meet the right guy, I won’t be a disappointment to him maybe I wouldn’t feel so damn awful.
“You know there are dating apps,” Jigsaw says.
Spoken like someone who hasn’t been on a dating app recently. “I don’t want to date.”
“There are escorts. Male escorts.”
“I couldn’t be so…intimate with a stranger. I’d be too self-conscious to actually learn anything.”
He lets out a strangled groan. “What makes you think I’d be a good teacher?”
Now he’s just irritating me. “Well, you’re a good-looking man in a motorcycle club that surrounds itself with beautiful women. I assume you’re experienced. But if you’re not, just say that.”
“Oh, I’m experienced, baby.” He casts a dark look my way that sends a thrill to each of my erogenous zones. “How many men have you slept with?”
“That seems personal.”
“You wanna use me as your sex coach. That’s kinda personal.”
“I don’t want to use you.” Okay, maybe I do. “It’s not like you get nothing out of it.”
“As you so sweetly pointed out, I can go bust a nut in any random woman hanging around my club.”
“Gross,” I mutter.
We’re finally cruising down my street, and I sit up. The house is dark. Dad isn’t back yet. Jigsaw pulls into the parking lot and stops the car right in front of the porch stairs.
“Will you come in and let me make you coffee?” I offer. “It’s a long drive back.”
His lips twist into a wry grin. “Is that your way of saying you don’t want me to stay over?”
My hand’s on the door latch but I turn and stare at him. “You…you want to start tonight?”
He stares at me for a few beats. “No, probably not. We should discuss a few things, first.”
“Uh, that doesn’t sound pleasant.”
The solemn look on his face sends my stomach into my shoes. He’s not having sex with me. I made an ass out of myself at the wedding. Blubbering that I’m bad in bed and need tutoring. What grown man wants to deal with that? He probably only humored me because I was high.
High or not, we had a bit of a connection, right? I didn’t hallucinate the interest sparking in his eyes.
I’m keenly aware of him at my back as we approach the porch steps.
Bright, golden light floods the immediate area around the porch.
“Christ, those are blinding.” Jigsaw throws his arm up to cover his eyes. “Glad you have them, though.”
“Sometimes we get people creeping around, thinking we have drugs or valuables they can steal,” I explain.
I grip the handrail and carefully pull myself up the steps, still feeling a bit unsteady in my heels.
“Seriously?” he asks. “Trying to rob a funeral home? Feels like bad karma.”
“You’d think.” I sigh. “I hate to sound like my father, but people don’t have a lot of respect for the dead or those who tend to them anymore.”
“People don’t fear being punched in the face as much as they should anymore, either.”
I chuckle at his blunt, violent observation. “That’s a colorful way to put it.”
I slip my key into the lock and push the door open. Inside, I hurry to the alarm panel and punch in the code.
The door closes behind Jigsaw with a heavy thunk.
I toe off my heels and stack them neatly on the first step of the staircase leading upstairs.
“What’s up there?” Jigsaw asks.
“Well, the second floor used to be the family living quarters when I was a kid. Now, there’s a parlor we use sometimes for overflow guests and a room for kiddos who are having a hard time with the solemn nature of events down here. My cousin’s suite is at the end of the hall. My apartment is on the third floor.”
“Where does your dad live?”
“Next door.”
“Ahhh.” He nods slowly. “So you’re in this big house all by yourself most of the time?”
He seems to be asking out of concern for my safety, not because he wants to stay the night without my family knowing. Maybe I should be insulted, but for some reason that makes me like him even more.