Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I nearly groan since I’m frustrated, my body is heating up, my ass is going numb again since I sat down in pretty much the same spot, and my cock is anything but numb. I hate that I shouldn’t kiss her and can’t kiss her because it would be wrong. If I wanted to kiss her, I shouldn’t have torn my shirt off and then ran like a T-rex out of that Vegas chapel. I should have stuck around. I shouldn’t have made her track me down in order to right what went wrong. Even if she weren’t thinking of joining the family, kissing her would muck things up, so I can’t kiss her. She wouldn’t want to give me a second chance. I’m not even sure the first chance was her idea. We were both drunk, and that was that.
“I don’t know if I want to leave my life behind,” she whispers softly into the darkness, her face turned away. “It’s not that I have a lot to give up or that I’d mind it. I have a rented apartment, a car that doesn’t owe me anything, a job that is just meh most of the time and totally unfulfilling because it was the best thing I could get without a degree, and friends who are okay—no one who would have my back when I needed it, but no one who wouldn’t either. It would be the luck of the draw. I know enough people that someone would probably step up. It’s not great, but it’s not bad either, and it’s mine. I built it myself. I’ve done it all for myself.”
Some invisible creature, maybe a spider I don’t know about, reaches above my head and switches on the brilliance bulb. “Ahh, I see. It’s a matter of pride.”
“Not a matter of pride.”
“You want to prove you can take care of yourself and do it all on your own. Joining a family might muck your system up.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Are you sure?”
She leaps up like a bee has just crawled up her shorts. “Yes!” She plants her hands on her hips and stares me down. She should so join this family. Her staredowns rival Granny’s. “It’s not my pride that’s the issue. There are lots of things to consider!”
She storms to the ladder, and I stand up too and walk around, just to make sure she gets up fine in the dark and doesn’t slip and fall again. She’s panting when she gets there, and it’s not because she just expended a huge amount of physical effort. She’s mad. I’ve clearly touched on a sore spot.
“Someone left you, or they weren’t there for you. You’re used to being alone. It can be tough working as a team player after that, but I don’t think that’s the issue. You do have something to prove.”
Her lips pinch together in anger. “You have one thick skull. This isn’t about proving anything.”
“If you want to prove to yourself that you’re awesome and can do anything, we always have that door open. If you’re worried that by letting someone care about you, you’re opening yourself up to a world of hurt and disappointment, don’t be. Once you’re in with us, even if you want to leave and walk your own path like some of my brothers have, you’re still with us for life. You still get weekly Granny emails, texts, and phone calls. Granny won’t be one of those people who abandon you because, without you, there is no better life.”
Her breath catches. She’s literally standing there, not breathing, and now I’m worried there’s more than a bee up her shorts and that whatever it was just bit her, and she’s allergic to it and is going into shock. I am not equipped to deal with that. Not in the least. With a deep breath, I close the distance between us and cup her face before I can help myself, tilting it up. She lets out a big breath and sucks one in on a half inhale half sob.
I don’t know what happens next, but in an instant, her hands are on my shoulders. Then, they move up to my hair and thread through the strands, which are knotted from the wind tugging at them all night out here. She grasps my head and stands there. Just grasping my head, digging her fingers into my hair, and staring at me.
My brain half shuts off and half fires on the ninety-odd percent we don’t normally use. It’s telling me that she’s giving me kiss-me signals and that I should oblige and obey.
Maybe it’s testosterone charging on ahead of my better judgment, and the ninety percent isn’t my brain but my dick brain—that’s so awful—but I tilt her face up and bring my mouth to hers.