Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Easton stands with his empty plate, and I gape at it, wondering how he annihilated that so quickly when I’ve barely managed two bites. “I don’t have a sex story,” he tells us, his eyes sparkling. His gaze shifts to me, roaming over my body with hunger before returning to the boys. “Unlike you children, I know how to fuck.”
A soft groan escapes my lips before I even know I’ve made a sound. My eyes widen, and I curse myself for being so damn obvious. But damn, the man is right. He certainly knows how to fuck. Just the memory of how he fills me has me breathless. “Fuck.”
Easton smirks, his eyes filled with a cocky confidence that has me wanting to smack him. “Case in point.” With that, he turns on his heel and beelines back to the kitchen and starts loading up his plate again.
Irritation burns through me. It’s one thing for me to fall victim to his wicked charm—but using that as a way to put his friends down doesn’t sit well with me. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Cross,” I say. “You might be able to get me off, but that doesn’t mean you’re some kind of sex god.”
Easton whips around, his sharp gaze locking on mine. “Cross?” he spits, the word like poison in his mouth. “Since when do you call me Cross? It’s Easton to you.”
“I called you Easton when I thought I saw something in you. When I thought there was some kind of connection between us, something real. But you led me on, just like Sawyer and Dalton did, and now I can’t trust any of you,” I tell him. I’m not sure if I’m only calling him Cross out of spite, but there’s no denying that Easton feels so right on my lips. “As fucked up as it is, Zade is the only one who’s been honest with me from the get-go . . . Well, as honest as he could be without actually telling me what was going on. But you three . . . all you wanted was to get your dicks wet, and I know that I’m not innocent in this either. I was more than happy to spread my legs for you. But the difference was that I thought I was screwing three guys who had promised to protect me from Empire’s attacks. I played your fucking game, and you got me hook, line, and sinker. You three made me out to be a fool.”
Easton narrows his gaze and puts his plate down on the kitchen counter before striding toward me. I feel the guilt radiating off Dalton, but I can’t look at him, my gaze held captive by the raw fury in Easton’s stare.
He steps right up to me, reaches down, and grabs me by the top of my arms. Easton hoists me up, and I barely have a moment to place my plate down on the couch cushion before I’m pulled to my feet. Easton’s strong body presses right up against mine. “I get it, Pretty. You’re hurting, and I’ve been trying to give you space today, but this is where I draw the fucking line,” he rumbles, his big knee pushing between my legs until his strong thigh is grinding against my pussy. I grip onto his arms simply to keep myself on my feet, knowing damn well if he pushes this, I’ll crumble to the floor.
I suck in a breath, captivated by those dark eyes, and he reaches down, grips my thigh, and pulls it up to circle around his hip. His fingers linger on my thigh, his thumb brushing over the top of it, right where his cross lingers beneath the fabric of Zade’s sweatpants. “This fucking means something,” he tells me. “I didn’t mark you with a cross because I get off on making you bleed. I staked a fucking claim to you, Oakley. I gave you my mark because this is fucking real to me. I might not be over here drooling at your feet like these assholes, but that doesn’t make this any less real. So don’t you fucking dare dismiss me as a callous liar. I’ve been honest with you everywhere I could.”
Easton grips my chin and holds my gaze, and just when I think he’s about to crush his lips to mine, he releases me, dropping his hold and walking away. There’s no way in hell I’m about to let him go without saying my piece. “If this is so fucking real,” I say to his back, watching as he stiffens and pauses across the living room, “then why are you so quick to send me to my grave and be rid of me?”
Easton turns back, his eyes flaming with a strange mix of unease and caution. He holds my stare and I glare right back, neither one of us relenting. But not having the balls to answer me truthfully, he turns and walks away, leaving me crumbling to the ground, gasping for air.