Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
I grab my favorite choker and lean into the mirror as I fasten it around my throat, my eyes quickly darting to the faded love bites Grayson left at the base of my neck in the Jacuzzi. The thought of it sends a wicked thrill through me but I put it to the back of my mind. Party first, and then I can fuck the boys, and if they’re in the ‘organized sports’ kinda mood, I’ll see how they feel about all four of them taking me on at once. Though, where the hell is everything supposed to go? I’d be like a cream-filled donut with white stuff oozing out of every little hole. I can’t wait.
Black liner circles my eyes, and just to get a kick out of Cruz, I add an extra two layers of mascara. Though for Carver, I put my hair up into a high pony, knowing how every time he sees it like this, he can’t help but dream about the way he’d wrap his hand around it and yank my head back until my eyes were only on his. Sometimes his inability to share is a pain in the ass, but I can’t deny that sometimes his jealous tendencies definitely have their advantages.
“Babe, you ready?” Cruz’s lazy question comes from the doorway of my new bedroom—the very room that my parents once called their own.
I roll my tongue over my lips as I step away from the mirror. “Damn right, I am,” I tell him, walking out of the massive closet and turning out the light as I go.
My gaze instantly sweeps over Cruz, leaning up against my door frame in a three-piece suit that has him looking like a Beckham at a royal wedding while also looking like he’s about to step through the doors of a BDSM dungeon and fuck me until I scream a safe word.
“Well, shit,” I say, my eyes greedily travelling over his perfectly sculpted body. “You’re making me feel underdressed.”
Cruz grins and shakes his head. “You look fucking perfect. No one else is going to be this formal, but mom would whoop my ass if I wore anything different. Tonight is her night, and I’m not about to fuck it up for her.”
“Funny,” I grumble, stepping into his warm arms and brushing my lips over his. “I could have sworn that tonight was supposed to be your night.”
His hand comes down over my ass with a sharp slap, the tight leather making the sound bounce off every wall in the room. “Tonight is my night,” he promises, meaning so much more than just the dinner party. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Promise,” I tell him. “Tonight I’m all yours.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” King hollers from the foyer directly below us.
I groan and grab my phone off my dresser before looking down at my pants and trying to figure out where the fuck to put it. After all, I know I’m in leather pants, thigh-high boots, and an old Queen tank, but I have to be somewhat classy. It’s not like I can just shove it down my bra like I would usually do.
Cruz laughs and holds out his hand. “Here,” he murmurs, waiting patiently.
I let out a deep sigh and hand it over before watching as he slips my phone into his pocket. It’s not fair, why do guys get all the pockets in their clothes? Even in a suit, he gets exactly what he needs and more, but for me? Nothing. It’s just assumed that we'll all be carrying purses, and I don’t know if these clothes designers have figured it out yet, but some of us prefer Ducatis over limos and would like a fucking pocket or two.
Cruz offers me his arm and I take it with a forced smile, hating that he can see right through it. Tonight is supposed to be about him. I can’t spend the night sulking about Ember’s betrayal. I need to fake it better because Cruz deserves this. Both he and Grayson do. They worked their asses off for this and it will hopefully motivate them to push even harder to find the next victim. Though, something tells me that the boys won’t need any extra motivation. That’s just the kind of guys they are.
Cruz helps me down the stairs and I hold onto him tightly. I can only imagine the smirks I’d get from the guys standing at the bottom if I were to trip and fall. They’re such gentlemen. I’m sure they’d help me up, you know, once they’re finished laughing.
We take it slowly, and while Cruz would insist that it’s because he doesn’t want me to fall, it’s actually because his body is still incredibly sore and stiff from the accident. He has three broken ribs and the concussion lasted a few days. I was lucky though. Cruz literally saved my life. I came out with just a bit of stiffness and road rash over my thighs, but after massaging some balm into my thighs each night, it’s starting to feel a million times better. My favorite ripped jeans weren’t so lucky though. They were completely shredded and gave a whole new meaning to the term ‘ripped jeans.’