Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Fucking sucks, man,” Peek rumbled. “Glad you told us.”
He gestured to the bartender.
The bartender stopped in front of us once again, and Peek said, “Give me the bottle.”
The bartender handed him the rest of the bottle of whiskey and walked to the end of the bar once again where the cute little redhead waitress was talking and flirting with him.
Peek poured me another shot.
“You still think about killing yourself?” Ridley asked bluntly.
I turned my gaze to his.
Then picked up the shot and downed it.
Fire burned down my throat as I shrugged.
“Not in the last two weeks,” I told him honestly.
A slight gasp had me turning to see Kitt standing there, a look of shock covering her beautiful face.
And my belly sank.
Fuck me.
I’d never wanted her to hear that story.
Hell, I never wanted anyone to hear that story, but definitely not her.
And I could tell that she’d definitely put the timeline together.
It’d been exactly two weeks since I’d met her.
Two weeks and eight hours to be exact.
And it was the truth.
I hadn’t once thought about killing myself in the last two weeks.
Everybody else heard the gasp as well as me, and they turned to see Kitt’s ashen face.
“You need help to your room?” Ridley asked.
She bit her lip.
“No.”
She wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and studiously avoided them, letting me know clearly what she thought.
Ridley growled.
“You know better, Kitt,” Ridley said through clenched teeth.
Kitt shrugged.
I turned around and presented Kitt with my back, shame pouring off of me in waves.
And somehow I knew that I just had a setback.
I was fucked, and not in a good way.
Needless to say, I didn’t follow her back to the room.
***
Two hours later, I was about ten sheets to the wind and barely making it up to my room.
I fiddled with the door for about two minutes before a bleary-eyed woman opened it.
“You forget how to work your card?” Kitt asked with amusement.
I didn’t answer her, only walked into the room and collapsed onto the bed.
“You want me to help you off with your boots and pants?” She asked laughingly.
I rolled over.
“Do your worst,” I ordered.
My voice sounded rough. Way rougher than normal.
And I couldn’t feel my face.
“You can’t feel your face because you’re drunk off your ass,” Kitt said with a smile on her beautiful lips.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” I asked.
“For calling me beautiful,” she whispered. “It’s nice to hear it.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” I growled. “And don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.”
She blushed and that’s when I realized all the lights were on.
“Why are all the lights blazing this late?” I asked, closing my eyes and letting her take my boots off.
“Because I was waiting for you. I wanted to tell you I understand.”
She pulled my boots off, and they fell to the floor with a soft thump.
The hotel had excellent carpeting. Carpet that was so thick that it could possibly pass for a fucking extra bed—comfortably—if worse came to worst.
“You have a gun on your ankle,” she whispered.
I wiggled my foot.
“I do,” I looked at it, sounding surprised.
She giggled.
The Velcro on my ankle holster loosened and I smiled.
“You don’t like guns?” I asked.
“No,” she bit her lip. “It’s not that. I just didn’t realize you had them, that’s all.”
“Hmmmm,” I drawled. “Interesting.”
When she moved up the bed and started working on my pants, my cock instantly hardened.
“I want you to fuck me,” I told her. “Hop on my cock and fuck the hell out of me. Make me forget this shitty day.”
I didn’t see her face fall at the mention of my shitty day because I was already passed the hell out. If I had, I would’ve reassured her that it wasn’t because of her.
Then I would’ve made love to her for hours afterwards.
Because that was exactly how the next couple of months went.
Misunderstanding after misunderstanding.
Chapter 8
Look me in the beard when I’m talking to you.
-T-shirt
Kitt
He was gone the next morning when my eyes finally opened.
I ate breakfast by myself, too, seeing as all my medication had to be taken with food.
Even my brother slept in.
The next two days I barely saw Apple.
Each time I tried to stop him and talk, he ignored me, made up an excuse, or plain old left without listening to anything I had to say.
The drive back was terrible.
Where before I’d enjoyed the entire time, albeit being uncomfortable, now I couldn’t help but know with absolute certainty that Apple didn’t want me riding with him.
But he’d brought me here, and he wouldn’t leave me to find my own way home.
Ridley also didn’t have the seat on the back of his bike that would allow me to ride with him; so, here I was, stuck in between a rock and a hard place.
The moment we pulled up in front of my house, he stopped only long enough to make sure Ridley and I didn’t need anything, and then left without another word or glance back.