Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 54645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“Bling? Did you serious just say that?”
“Call ‘em like I see ‘em.” She snaps and I laugh for the first time in so goddamned long.
It feels amazing. Being with her again is heaven after two years in hell. “Yeah. It was difficult as fuck to do anything with the money from over there and I was whacked out still from my injury. By the time I had my head right, I was coming home.”
“Jesus. Wow.” I see her swallow, fingers gripping the wheel.
“Just wait. And by the way, we’re not going back to your place.”
She looks at me, brow all furrowed. Under all that beauty, she’s still that spunky little kid who didn’t think she needed me at all.
“We aren’t?”
“You deserve the best of everything Kitty Kat, and I’m going to give it to you. So I bought a place in Elmond Estates. Got it legal and signed for a few days ago. Wanted it to be a surprise. Place is fucking lit. I got it all set for us. Furnished, decorated, kitchen is stocked. Down to fresh raspberries in the fridge and those strawberry, crunchy ice cream bars you love in the freezer. Oh, and Crunch Berry. I hate that fucking cereal.”
“No way.” She gives me a little shove. “How did you remember that?”
I stifle a grimace of pain as she pushes me. Or try to stifle it anyway. But every little movement hurts like a motherfucker. Her worried eyes tell me she notices. Because she knows me better than anybody else.
“Never mind the money. Never mind the house,” she says, reaching over and taking my hand. “Are you okay? You told me you got hurt, but you didn’t tell me everything. So you might as well tell me because what I’m imagining is just awful.”
I watch the trees rush past on the highway, and count one, two, three mile-markers as I decide how much to tell her. I don’t want to fucking burden her. I don’t want to fucking overwhelm her. But I do want her to know.
“I’ll give it to you straight. It was bad. Two bullets, through-and-through. In the chest. I flat-lined for thirty-three seconds during surgery. Damn near bled to death.”
She squeezes my hand; her delicate, sweet little fingers are knitted between my scarred, tanned ones.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because I’m fucking proud. And tough. And hated to think of her worried. “Because I woke up. Because I’m good.”
“Bullshit me at your own risk, son,” she says, mimicking Dad’s voice.
She’s gotten tougher in the years since I’ve been gone. I fucking love it and hate it at the same time.
I draw a long breath and look away. It’s a fucking head game, being this close to her. I start shaking my leg to make sure my cock doesn’t jump higher in my pants as I tell myself what a shit I am, getting a hard on for forbidden fruit. For my sister.
Step-sister, I remind myself, but it doesn’t make it feel less sinful.
But I can’t help it. My dick is already full of blood, and I’m consumed with thoughts of slipping deep inside that holy, slippery, tight space of hers.
More nights than I can possibly count, my mind has been consumed with her. And now I’m fucking consumed all over again. I want to make her pull this fucking Jeep over, and take her right over my knee, right here on the side of the highway. Redden those ass cheeks with my hand, and then slip her little panties off and…
Christ. I gotta pull myself together. I have to. Because there’s something I need from her. And it’s not her pussy.
Not yet.
“I mean, I’m mostly fine. Kind of fine.” I exhale through my nose, running my hand over the top of my head.
Her eyes linger on mine then flick forward again. “Tell me.”
Another long inhale then, “Yeah. So that’s the problem. I need some help. And I need to know if you’d be the one to help me.”
She bites her lip, blinking twice before flicking her gaze down at my knees for a second. “You mean like, nurse you?” she asks, concentrating forward again.
“Yeah.” My voice is thick. Every emotion I’ve pushed down for two years is ready to explode from my chest. “It’s a big ask. I know, but…”
“Did you get hit in the head too?” She shoots me a hard glare, twisting those killer lips into a pout. “Of course I’ll help you, dumb-ass. It’s not a big ask. Not at all. If you ask anyone else, then we’re going to throw down.” Her naive, wide-eyed, dimpled face sends a jolt straight into my heart.
Swords feel like they are clashing inside me. The battle between hard-headed independence and sincerely accepting the help I need and want.
“But you’ve got work.” But, not for long because you don’t need to work. “You’ve got a life.” But, I want to be your life, as selfish as that is.