Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78867 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
She’s sprawled out, legs still spread from where she accommodated me. What the fuck is it about seeing my cum between her legs that gets me riled up all over again?
“What?” I snap into the phone without looking at the screen, my hand already inching down my stomach to grip my cock.
“Varon is in town.”
Like ice water being poured right on top of me, all thoughts of getting Sylvie back on my dick transfer to needing to protect her.
I grab my boxers, pulling them on hastily as I leave the room, heading for the back door because I don’t want to alarm her if it’s not necessary.
“Where?” I hiss the second I step outside, my body still overheated and not really upset about the cold air that circles me.
“Jake’s. Drake called, but he was gone by the time the guys got there. I have a team headed in your direction.”
I hang up the phone and head back inside. I’ve been in more than one sticky situation, but knowing that Will Varon is in town makes my skin crawl. There’s only one fucking reason that man would be in town, and I just left her unprotected in the house.
Chapter 31
Sylvie
I’m a firm believer that amazing sex will cure just about anything.
My body hums with satisfaction as I pull on a robe and head to the kitchen for something to drink. I’m parched from the time I just spent with Spade, and I’m managing right now not to think about all the tomorrows.
Tomorrow, things could change.
Tomorrow, Spade, who has become a constant fixture in my life, could go back to the clubhouse.
Tomorrow, the man I find myself infatuated with could find someone else’s bed to keep warm.
I drink the bottle of water so fast it makes my stomach ache but rehydrating for what I hope is round two is a necessity.
I stand with my feet locked in place, hip against the kitchen counter when what I really want to do is follow Spade out of the house and find out what was so important about his phone call that he had to go outside to talk.
I don’t own the man, and I’m not foolish enough to think he doesn’t have other women waiting around for him. If I hadn’t been so busy with Big Daddy after our first night together, I might have broken his onetime-only rule and called him up. I imagine many women have done that in the past. I would’ve had to get his number from Faith somehow because he certainly didn’t offer it before, during, nor after that first night, but I wouldn’t put it past myself after the great night we had.
I press the back of my arm to my forehead, checking for fever because my body temp seems to be having trouble regulating itself. The man is a furnace, the heat of him arming me from the inside.
Does the fact that we’ve had unprotected sex twice now mean something about where we’re heading or am I just projecting desires I still haven’t fully wrapped my head around? Is it a pleasure haze? Am I only thinking about the sex? Would that even be enough to try and pursue anything with the man?
I chuckle at my ridiculous thoughts.
He isn’t the type of man to get attached to a woman because of great sex, and I’m an idiot for even contemplating that as a possibility.
It’s proof enough that the man is willing to take a phone call before the sweat even dries on his skin. He’s outside in his underwear because he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Jealousy stabs at me, a quick yet lasting pain settling inside of me.
But it’s my own fault. I’m reading too much into what we’ve done.
Sex may cure a lot of things but it also has the power to make someone more than a little crazy when its reoccurrence is threatened.
The doorbell makes me jolt, but I’m grateful for the distraction. I need to get that man out of my head and out of my house as quickly as possible because all these contradicting thoughts are driving me insane.
Turning the doorknob, I get the door halfway open when I hear Spade’s reentry at the back of the house.
“Don’t open the fucking door!”
But it’s too late, and when I turn my head to face my visitor, I realize my mistake.
Will Varon, a man I once considered a friend, is standing on my front porch, a gleaming knife in his hand.
I’ve run this scenario through my mind. Well, not this exact sequence of events because who could ever dream this up in their mind?
But as all women do, I’ve thought about how I would handle a threatening situation, what I would do to save myself.
Instead of a quick karate chop or producing some sort of weapon out of thin air, I stand frozen, trembling in fear.