Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107595 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Now you know.”
Good lord, that voice just did all kinds of things to her insides. “Know what? Your height?” Damn the shake in her own.
“That it was a mistake.”
“I needed to get home, Judge.”
“Didn’t even fuckin’ say goodbye. Or ‘Thanks for the dick.’ Or ‘Sorry for the huge wet spot on your bed, Judge.’”
Heat shot through her at the memory of how that wet spot was made. Honestly? She wasn’t sorry about it. Not in the least. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Bull-fuckin-shit.”
“While, yes, maybe it was a mistake, it had been one I was willing to make.”
His chin jerked back, and he quickly masked his surprise. He dropped his head until she could feel his warm breath sweep over her parted lips. His eyes followed her tongue as she licked them slowly.
Those Caribbean Sea green eyes turned very dark and heated. “You learn from that mistake?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“What d’you learn?”
“That I really liked what we did to make that wet spot.” Truth be told, she would love to make another one.
“So, it’s a mistake you’re willin’ to make again?”
“Mmm... maybe.”
“Thank fuck,” he murmured against her lips, then took her mouth.
She groaned as his tongue tangled with hers. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him deeper into the kiss.
A few seconds later, and with what felt like a steel pipe pressing into her belly, he pulled back. “Keep temptin’ me like that, you’re gonna end up naked in your foyer, so if your girl or sister wakes up, they’re gonna get a sight they might never fuckin’ forget.”
“It’s probably a good idea if we move, then,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He stepped back and they both dropped their hands. She already missed his heat against her. And that hard-on which was making the crotch of her yoga pants damp.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was having a hot flash.
“Where we goin’?”
To her bedroom if it was up to her, but she’d be afraid of waking Daisy. And he wasn’t here for that.
Or was he?
No. He’d been ticked she’d left Sunday morning without a word. That was why he was here. Right?
Though, he was a big, bad biker, why would he care about that? “Do all the women you sleep with say goodbye before they leave?”
“If I give ‘em a chance. Sometimes I’m kickin’ their ass out the door so fast, they’re lucky they’re wearin’ clothes.”
Cassie stifled her laugh. “That’s rude.”
“Yeah? They know the deal.”
Suddenly, what he’d said wasn’t so funny. “Do they? How would they know?”
“’Cause they’re...” He grimaced. “’Cause they do.”
“Because they’re what? Hookers?”
His brow rose. “Hookers?” Then he dropped his head and shook it. When he lifted it again, his face still held amusement. “Never had to pay...” He frowned. “No, that ain’t right. Had to pay once, but never got what I paid for.”
“You paid a hooker?” she practically squeaked.
“Not a hooker. Just a whore. A patch whore who was willin’ to pop my cherry.”
What? First of all, what the hell was a “patch whore” and secondly... “Pop your cherry? How old were you?”
“Old enough to want a taste of pussy, young and stupid enough to be willin’ to pay for it.”
“And it never happened?”
“Let’s just say it was for the best. Bitch had crotch rot that could burn your fuckin’ nose hairs.”
Cassie slammed a hand over her mouth. She wasn’t sure if she should find that funny or appalling. Or maybe a little of both.
After a second, when she could breathe again without wheezing, she dropped her hand.
He grabbed it. “Where we goin’?”
“Somewhere we won’t wake Daisy.”
“We gettin’ loud? Not opposed to that, just to be clear. Got my Ford out front, no one’s gonna hear us in there.”
Her eyes slid toward the door, tempted.
No, she couldn’t leave Daisy alone in the house just so she could scratch an itch. That wouldn’t get her a Mother of the Year trophy. Not that she had a mantle to put it on, anyway.
“Living room, I guess.” She used the hand he didn’t have a death grip on to point in the direction they should go.
“Your sister got one of those plastic-covered couches like my gramma had?”
It took her a second to figure out what he meant. “I thought you were here to talk.”
“Yeah, ‘til you said you don’t mind makin’ mistakes. Thinkin’ since I’m a big one, you might wanna try again.”
When they entered the dark room, she flipped the switch as they passed it, turning on the lights. He collapsed onto the not-covered-in-plastic couch—which actually creaked under his weight—taking her with him. Not quite pulling her onto his lap, but close. As she tried to make some space between them, he yanked her closer.
She was going to have a hard time having any kind of conversation with this man while being pinned against him. “My daughter’s upstairs.”