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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“Hey, hey, brother, we’re all friends here,” the first guy says. “And you seem to be forgetting where you are,” he reminds Milo. I never really understood club business.

Milo slides his tongue over his teeth and sucks in air as a devilish smile touches his lips. “And you seem to be forgetting who the fuck I am. Shall I remind you?” Milo taunts.

The man looks at me before moving his attention back to Milo. “We just wanted to say hello. No harm done.” He holds up his hands. “We’ll just leave. Have a good night.” He nods to Milo and smirks at me before they saunter away.

Milo is quiet as they leave, not turning back to face me until they’re gone.

“Who are they?” I ask.

“Assholes” is all he replies. I don’t bother arguing, knowing club stuff is his stuff. I know it’s bad, but is all of it? How can he be so bad when, to me, he is anything but? “Drink. We’ll leave after.”

I notice the change in his posture, so I lean in and put my head on his shoulder.

“How about I show you how much my tongue has missed you on my knees in my room after this?” I offer.

Those heated eyes find mine, and now they aren’t tinged with anger. It’s lust. He lifts a hand, and his thumb strokes my brow before he leans in and kisses the edge of my jaw with feather-light kisses.

“Anything with you,” he says, and we forget about everything. He makes me forget about everything but him.

His touch.

The way his kisses linger all over my skin, marking it for him.

And the way no other man can compete with this man.

He holds the power, and I’m letting it slip by giving it to him.

“Okay, let’s go.” I pull away and stand.

Throwing some cash on the counter for the drinks, he grips my hand, and we waste no time leaving. As soon as we step outside, we head in the direction of my apartment. It’s not far, and I want to spend every minute with him in my bed before he leaves tomorrow.

Just as we turn the corner, something in the air shifts—it hits differently. I’m not sure how to describe it exactly. But everything changes. A loud thunk is all I hear before his hand leaves mine. I turn toward him, confused, to see him doubling over in pain before I notice the three men who just stepped out of the alley behind us.

“Wonder what makes you so special to have the Savage Villains’ Prez with you. Killing you will make us kings. No one will fuck with us,” one says.

Milo isn’t down. He’s just bent over. So I move toward him, but before I can reach him, one of the men pulls me to the side.

It all happens so fast—it’s almost a blur in front of my eyes. I try to push away from the man, but he simply laughs. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my back to his front. I feel his hardness and excitement for me at the struggle, and it disgusts me.

“Let me go.” It’s almost a scream, but before I can say or do anything else, Milo is standing straight again. He punches the guy to the right of him straight in the gut, making him buckle over. Milo then grips the guy’s head and slams it into his knee. You can hear the crunch, sounding a lot like bones shattering.

The second guy is holding a knife, and Milo takes it from him easily, and in one quick move, he’s behind the guy, holding the knife to his neck. It’s then he finds me gripped in the arms of the third man.

“Before I slice your throat, I’d suggest you tell your man to remove his hands from the lady.” The man with the knife at his throat goes to laugh, but Milo applies pressure, and blood starts to leak around the knife’s blade. “Do you know me to be a joking man, Constable?” he asks.

“Let her go,” the man with the knife at his neck says. At that moment, I turn around and kick the guy who was holding me straight in his junk.

“Asshole,” I grumble and wipe my hands down my jeans while I lock my focus on Milo.

“Now, you know I can’t let you go without a warning.” Milo pauses. “It would be wrong of me, after all.” All three faces go white, but one looks at me as if he’s ready to grab me again. “Tsk, tsk. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” I step out of reach. And in what feels like three breaths, Milo drops the knife. And before I can see what he’s doing, the man is screaming. Milo steps back, and the man turns, revealing the knife now protruding from his ass cheek.


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