Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Your brother doesn’t need your help, asshole,” she grinds out, and I smile. There’s nothing better than a woman prepared to step up and defend her man.
“Not help,” I tell her. “I’d just be the icing on the cake.”
Hayes appears in the hallway, and if looks could kill, I’d be on a skewer somewhere, roasting over the flames of hell. Riley, who still has flushed cheeks and a slightly dazed look in her eyes, is swamped in Hayes’ t-shirt and clutches her clothes to her chest.
“You need to stop right now.”
I smile an easy, relaxed smile and slick my tongue over the center of my bottom lip, watching as Riley follows the action. A shiver runs through me with the confirmation that she’s considering it. I suspected she has that little freaky bone in her body that’s just waiting for the right corruption to flex. And I’m the right kind of corruption. I slide my palm under my shirt and rub my abs in an absentminded way that she follows with her pretty, dark eyes.
“Ask her,” I say, low and slow. “Ask her if she wants that.” And to Riley, I say, “We’d be so good to you, sweetheart. We’d make all your kinky dreams come true.”
“Fuck.” Hayes begins to steer Riley away, and she turns her body to go with him, but her eyes stay locked on mine. They’re angry, yes, but also curious, with just a sprinkle of longing. I can’t let him take her away before I seal the deal.
“No one has to know, Riley. We’d keep it between ourselves.”
“If you don’t shut…”
A thud on the door interrupts Hayes’ rant. He glances at his watch, but Malik’s voice rings out before we can question who’s knocking on the door at this ridiculous hour. “Open up, douchebags. Jacob’s hurt,” and all my thoughts of sex turn to dust.
16
RILEY
Shawn gets to the door first, flinging it open so hard it slips from his grip and slams against the wall with a low thud. Outside, Malik is supporting Jacob, who, on first inspection, looks like he’s auditioning for The Walking Dead. His eyelids are barely open, his steps are sloppy, and he’s leaning so far away from Malik that one wrong move will send him face-first into the wall.
“What the fuck happened?”
“He took a punch to the side of the head,” Malik explains, his voice tight. “Some asshole clocked him.”
“What the fuck for?” Shawn is already slipping his arm under Jacob’s other side before I can get a good look at him.
“Hitting on his girlfriend.”
Shawn curses low and harshly as he and Malik drag Jacob into the house.
“You see what happens when you fuckers desert me?” Jacob mumbles, his words slurring together.
My attention is glued to Jacob as a shirtless Hayes steps in to relieve Malik. The three of them look like some kind of hockey-themed action movie poster where the hero is replicated in triplicate at different stages of his heroic journey; pristine Shawn, disheveled Hayes, and the post-apocalyptic wreck that is Jacob. Even through the confusion, my body reacts to Hayes’ muscles flexing as he adjusts Jacob’s arm, and Shawn’s sharp jawline that is set in determination. Even Jacob, as out of it as he is, looks ruggedly handsome in a just-got-my-ass-kicked kind of way. The movie bad boy.
I really need to get out more.
They start moving toward the living room, and I instinctively back up. I don’t realize I’ve stepped into Jacob’s line of sight until his head tilts, and his hazy gaze drags up my calves, thighs, and over my body, finally landing on my face.
“What are you doing here?”
Before I can answer, he sniffs the air and then turns to Hayes with an exaggerated squint. “And why do you smell like freshly eaten pussy?”
“Jesus Christ,” Hayes mutters, his grip tightening on Jacob as he and Shawn haul him into the den.
“Keep it clean,” Shawn says, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh.
I follow them into the den, still clutching my clothes as they lower Jacob into a chair, and even though he looks half-dead, his focus immediately zeroes in on me.
“Riley Johnstone.” He shakes his head. “And my brother.”
“You’re slurring, man.” Shawn leans forward, his hand outstretched, but Jacob slaps it away before he can touch his forehead.
“What the fuck are you doing? I don’t have a fever.”
Malik, who’s still hovering near the doorway, rubs the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in concern. When our eyes meet, he shakes his head. “I told him he should go to the hospital.”
“You should,” Hayes echoes, his voice firm.
Jacob waves his arm like he’s swatting a fly away from his favorite dessert. “I’m fine. Just need to rest my eyes.”
“Fuck, no, you don’t.” Shawn taps Jacob’s cheek lightly, then again when Jacob barely reacts. “Stay awake, dumbass. I’m not letting you die because you’re too stubborn to get checked out.”