Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“What? Why?” I asked as he pulled off his seatbelt and started to climb out of the car. “Why do you need to talk to Russ?” I asked after he opened my door.
“Just need to.”
“No. You don’t ‘just need’ to talk to my boss about anything without clearing it with me first,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You’re a stubborn fucking ass, you know that?” he asked as I moved next to him on the sidewalk out front of Barlowe House.
“I do. I do know that,” I agreed with a smirk.
“Get your ass moving,” he demanded, giving said ass a little smack, one hard enough to make me jump forward a step. And one that did not—absolutely did not—make my sex clench hard.
I mean, I’ll be honest.
Being around Voss without jumping his bones had been a testament to how fucking shitty I had been feeling. Because, normally, we’d have toured his bed, shower, dresser, and maybe even some varied places in the clubhouse by now.
That was how into the man I was.
At least physically.
And, I mean, in the interest of full disclosure, it wasn’t just physically either.
I had a lot of respect for the man. And so much empathy for what he’d been through. How far he’d come since then, since he clearly did find himself a family at the club, even if he wasn’t seeing it that way yet.
So, yeah, it was a heady concoction of both physical and mental/emotional desire.
I was barely holding it together.
It was probably just my ribs and the way they still felt like being stabbed or beaten when I moved too fast or twisted too much that was holding me back.
So I went ahead and kept out of arm’s reach as I made my way up the path and front steps.
“Sly!” Marshall greeted when I was two feet inside the door. “My girl,” he said, voice low, shaking his head as his gaze moved over me. “I heard it was bad, but…”
“It’s okay. I’m alright,” I assured him, reaching out to wrap my hand around his upper arm because the man was dangerously close to looking like he was going to cry. “I’ve been doing a lot of resting and healing,” I told him.
“That just means it was a lot worse a week ago,” the keen old man said.
“It was,” Voss confirmed.
“You’re not helping,” I grumbled at him.
“Just giving it to him straight,” Voss said. And that was his style. “Where’s Russ?” he asked.
“Office,” Marshall said, nodding toward the room. “Come with me, Sly. I’ll get you some coffee,” Marshall offered, leading me back into the kitchen.
“What do you think that is all about?” I asked, looking down the hallway toward where Voss had disappeared with Russ in the office.
“Probably your man telling Russ he needs to protect you while you’re here,” Marshall said.
I’d been kind of letting it slide when some of Voss’s biker friends had implied that I was his girl. But it felt wrong to let my people assume something that wasn’t true.
“He’s not my man,” I told him as he passed me a coffee that I damn well knew was not going to be sweet enough because Marshall had strong feelings about excess sugar. I would grin and bear it until he walked away, then shove an extra teaspoon or two of sweet into it.
Hey, dentists had to make a living too.
I didn’t mind passing a few bucks their way if it meant I got to actually enjoy my coffee.
“Girl,” Marshall said, shaking my head.
“He’s not!” I insisted.
“He stayed with you in the hospital, took you back to his place where he’s been taking care of you. That’s your man. Trust me. Men don’t do that for just anyone.”
The thing was, I kind of figured the same thing.
I’d known a lot of men in my life. Mostly men, in fact.
That phrase that people passed around on the internet was true.
If he wanted to, he would.
Guys just didn’t go out of their way for someone unless they liked them enough to do that.
Sure, we could factor in some guilt. And even his childhood trauma and dislike of bullies.
But after all of that, he’d still gone above and beyond. He’d done more for me than any man I’d ever been romantically entangled with before. Hell, I had been dating someone when I came down with the flu. He refused even to drop off cold medicine and cough drops outside of my door.
I could picture Voss coming into the apartment with the shit I’d asked for, plus more, and some soup he’d picked up.
Which said a lot about him.
And, yeah, maybe about him not just seeing me as some chick he saved from the side of the road.
Of course, I’d been managing to convince myself that it was just my wishful thinking whispering to me.