When He Reads to Me Read Online T.L. Smith

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Dark, Forbidden, MC Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
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“Where do you think you’re going?”

I lick my lips, still trying to catch my breath.

He turns me with a forceful hand on my shoulder until I’m facing him. “Lissie, answer me.”

“I’m leaving,” I state.

“I’ll send those videos to Savannah’s department. I’ll send them all,” he threatens with a smile on his face.

“Send them,” I say with clenched teeth and try to walk past him. He stops me with a hit to the back of my head, and as twinkling appears before my eyes, it’s not long before everything goes black.

Chapter 10

Milo

“Do you even know her…”

“You did what I told you not to do,” Rebecca says as she strides into the clubhouse the following week.

“Yes. I did what needed to be done.” I smile at her, but the smile is strained, not reaching my eyes, and for a moment, there is tense silence between us.

“Fucking hell, Milo.” She shakes her head. “Your father—”

“Let’s stop right there. I couldn’t give two shits what that old fuck would have done. This place was a shitshow because of him. I make more money in one fucking day than he ever did in his lifetime here.”

“It’s not all about the money.” I turn my gaze to her.

“So are you saying I should cut your pay?” Her face goes white at my words.

“No, of course not. I was just referring to life… it’s not all about money.”

“Maybe in your dream life, but in this one, the reality, it’s all about the fucking money,” I remind her.

She nods, and Morris sees her out. There is nothing to be gained by speaking any more words with her.

“Milo.” I turn to Letti when she says my name. She makes me a coffee and places it in front of me. “Can I ask you something?” She fidgets with a spoon as I nod. “Lissie. How is she? I mean, what type of person is she now?” I look at her, confused, my brows pulling together tightly, not knowing where this conversation is going.

“I knew her in school, then she got married and no one really knows anything about her now. She has this allure about her, where she’s closed off, and you are too afraid to ask for more.” My lips tug at the description of her. “I think she is the prettiest woman I have ever seen. It baffles me why she is married to that man.” She shakes her head.

Me and you both.

Letti is beautiful, and while I can appreciate her beauty, I would never go there. We grew up together, and she is basically a sister to me. When my life got to be too much, I would end up at their house.

“Anyway, I was just wondering… do you think she would be down for a friend?” she asks.

Does Elizabeth have friends? I’m not even sure.

“Why are you asking me?”

Her eyes go wide. “I just figured you might know something since you’re the only person she spends time with. I only ever see you with her.”

That’s because I force her to be with me.

Fuck, I wish she would give it to me freely.

I’m fucking obsessed with the woman.

And she has no idea.

“Ask her,” I tell her, and then walk away.

She’s late. Again. She missed our last session, and I don’t want to miss this one.

I press call on her contact because I need to hear her voice. The way she reads does things to me.

Chapter 11

Lissie

“Sometimes love is broken.”

My head hurts. That’s the first thing I think as my eyes open. And I hear music.

I try to sit up and realize my hands won’t move. Are they restrained? And this isn’t my bed. Cody has me tied up in his room. I pull at my wrists, but the rope doesn’t budge.

It burns my skin, and I know it will leave marks.

The sound of loud giggling filters into the room over the music, and I know his women are here. He brought them into our house and left me tied to the bed. I try to free my hands again, but it’s no use, so I flop back to the mattress.

Fuck.

What did I do to get myself into this position? Into this life? And how the fuck do I get myself out of it? Why can’t I get myself out of it?

“Cody!” I shout his name. No one answers, and the giggling doesn’t stop. “Cody!” I shout again. Tugging at my wrist, I try to pull it free from the rope.

His sheets smell like him.

Actually, the whole fucking room smells like him. Tangy, like he hasn’t washed in days.

I hate the way he smells—a rancid, sour, pungent mixture of stale bullshit and asshole behavior. His scent is suffocating and makes me recoil in disgust.

I hate the way he talks—an exercise in irritation and condescension. His tone is smug, and it makes my skin crawl.


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