Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80302 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I jump in the shower, letting the cool water rush over my body, and like always, it doesn’t take long for thoughts of Drake to infiltrate my mind.
I don’t attempt to shove them away this time. Instead, I feed them, picturing exactly what could happen if he showed up right this very second.
My cheeks are flushed both from arousal and embarrassment by the time I turn the showerhead off, praying that no one heard the noises I made.
What would I even say if they asked me why I said Drake’s name while in here alone?
Chapter 18
Drake
I’ve texted back and forth with Alex this last week. It never turned sexual again after his comment about playing with wood. I decided that I’d let him lead the charge as far as that topic was concerned, and, much to my disappointment, he hasn’t mentioned it.
There have been no more confessions of what he wants to do to me or requests for videos, despite making several over the course of the last week in order to be ready should he want one.
It doesn’t stop me from picturing him watching the videos I have sent, and so far, those thoughts have been enough to give me the fodder I need to take me right where I need to go.
If someone told me that I’d be the type of man to jack off to a picture of a hand or just a smiling face, I’d have called them a liar. But that would leave me eating crow because they would’ve been right. There is absolutely nothing inherently sexual about the images he’s sent, but there are parts of me, namely the ones below my belt, that just don’t care. To my dick, everything about Alex is sexual. His eyes, that little grin he gets when he thinks someone is being ridiculous. Even the redness in his cheeks because he was working outside in the hot summer sun in the video he sent. All of it turns me on. It doesn’t take much for my imagination to conjure how his sweat-slick skin would taste or how his rough hands would feel on my skin.
I grab another beer from the cooler, handing it over to a man I don’t recognize, despite the crisp leather cut on his back. I’ve deduced that this is some sort of welcoming party for new members. I’ve noticed three so far, but they don’t have road name patches on their brand-new leather cuts.
“Thanks, man,” he says, dropping a five-dollar bill on the counter.
“It’s a paid gig,” I tell him.
“And I tip when I drink,” he says, giving me a quick smile before turning and walking away.
I shove the money behind the bar with the other pile of cash. I purposely didn’t put a tip jar out because other parties I’ve worked had a no tipping policy. They didn’t want their guests feeling the need to hand over cash. Most just tip at the end of the night, but the payment for doing this for Cerberus was so big, I honestly wasn’t expecting anything additional. I didn’t exactly read the contract Kincaid’s wife, Emmalyn, emailed over because Ugly was right, the damn thing was like a million pages long, and reading isn’t really my thing. I just know to be on my best behavior and not to repeat a damn thing I hear if the guys get loose-lipped after a couple of drinks.
Kincaid wasn’t joking about this being a party for his crew because there are no outsiders here at all. I recognize many partners of members, but unless one-half, or one-third in Max’s, Tug’s, and Jasmine’s case, is wearing a cut, the others aren’t here.
I don’t see Detective Colton Matthews or Drew O’Neil, both closely connected to the club but not members. The odd man out is Kincaid’s brother Dominic, who is in attendance but not wearing a leather cut. I don’t know the full story behind him, but I’ve heard he works for Cerberus but isn’t technically a member.
I try to keep my eyes moving. There’s a certain awareness everyone here has, as if they can read minds. I do my best to not think of Boomer, but I have to pause each and every time my eyes land on him. It’s an uncontrollable urge to assess him, letting my eyes rake over him from top to bottom, all the while praying no one notices.
I’m a little disappointed in myself when he catches me looking in his direction. I know the man wouldn’t be very impressed if someone else noticed me paying too much attention to him, but his lips are smiling, his eyes sparkling in the dusk of the evening when I can finally manage to get my eyes off everything below his chin and look him in the eyes.
Instead of turning around and giving me his back, which let’s be honest is just as great a view as the front, he excuses himself from chatting with Alyssa and Harley and begins to walk in my direction.