Wrath Read Book Online L.P. Lovell, Stevie J. Cole (Wrong #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Erotic, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: , Series: Wrong Series by L.P. Lovell
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Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 85183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
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"No." Her bottomless eyes turn to meet mine. "You don't."

I take another puff and stare at her as I blow more smoke through my parted lips, my jaw instinctively clenching as the usual guilt gnaws at me. I hate being reminded how messed up she is. "I fucking know, Tor," I say through gritted teeth.

Her eyes spark violently, her nostrils flaring. I can tell she's thinking about him. Over the past few days, she's reached a volatile level of anger at the situation, and I'm honestly relieved with that. Guilt, denial... that does nothing, but anger, well, that's a whole different story. That is one emotion that at times can be more cleansing than a fucking baptism. When you finally let all that pent up tension go, it's freeing because when you've lost everything, sometimes anger is all you have. As shitty as it is, at times in life, revenge is all that's left. And that's where we are now.

She pushes away from the doorway. Her steps light as she makes her way toward me and leans over the desk. She takes the cigarette from my hand and places it between her full lips, pulling in a long drag and blowing a stream of smoke in my direction. "You really, really can't understand this," she says as she steps around the desk and sits on the edge in front of me.

She crosses her legs. That innocent movement causes her sundress to ride up her thighs far enough that I can see the white lace of her underwear peeking out. Swallowing hard, I force my eyes away from her long, lean legs. The phone rings, which is a welcomed distraction, and I quickly reach to answer it.

"Hello?" I barely get the word out of my mouth before I hear the line click. I frown, looking up to see the disconnected cord. Tor twists it around her fingers while she smirks. She places her bare foot on the chair next to my thigh and spreads her legs open, giving me a much clearer view of her.

I lean my head back against the chair and squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want to fucking deal with this right now. Honestly, I don't have the control to.

"Tor..."

"Jude," she answers flatly, that sexy smirk deepening on her face.

I push her foot from the seat. "What are you doing?"

Her gaze is locked to mine as she slowly pushes herself off the desk. She slides onto my lap and straddles me. Arching her brow, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and laces her fingers behind my neck. Her warm pussy presses against my cock through my jeans. It's been too damn long since I fucked her. I grab her hips, situating her further down my lap so she can't feel my hard-on. "Tor, what are you doing?"

Her eyes flash. "Do you need me to spell it out for you?" Her fingers drift over my shoulders to the top button of my shirt and unfasten it. She teasingly scrapes her nails over my exposed skin, causing me to draw in a slow breath. She moves her fingers to the next button, popping it loose, then to the next.

I grab her wrist. "You don't want this," I say, raising both brows.

Frowning, she tilts her head to the side. I can see the hurt mounting in her eyes, the crying vulnerability.

"I don't want this, or you don't want this?" she asks softly.

I’m not sure how to handle this because I don't think she can't handle it. She may think she can. Sighing, I cup her cheek and brush my thumb over her soft skin. "Believe me, I want you."

Her chest rises in uneven breaths, her eyes glued to mine.

"I just don't think you're ready," I say.

Her entire face crumples. Just when I'm afraid she's going to break down into tears, she whispers, "Please.” That one word is spoken so softly I can barely make it out. "I can't, I don't want him..."

She diverts her gaze to the wall behind me. She's so ashamed of that, and it kills me. It's not her fault, but I think somehow, she's made herself feel like it is. I gently grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. There's a long pause of silence as I fail to find the right words.

Her brow furrows and her eyes plead with me. "I need you take it away."

I tenderly squeeze her thigh, and her eyes fall to my chest. There are no words that can make this right. I'm better off not saying a damn thing. She is so fragile, and I never know what I'll say or do that may break her. She needs to know she's worth something, she needs to feel loved, but this is where I struggle. I am not that man that can put a feeling into words. I'm not fucking romantic. I lack sympathy on damn near every level.


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