Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
By the time we were done, my pencil cup was on the ground with pens and pencils scattered all over the floor. My papers were scattered, and I was fairly sure a glass of water had fallen over the other side of the desk onto the floor.
I cleaned up using wet wipes that I kept in my office for just this type of occasion and smiled innocently at my man as he tucked himself back into his jeans.
“Thanks.” I flushed.
He caught me up and pulled me into his arms, his smiling eyes taking me in as he said, “You don’t ever, and I do mean ever, have to thank me for that. It really is my pleasure.”
I scrunched up my nose at him and we headed out but came to a stop when we found Hazel standing in my shop with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said to me. “I was wrong about Asher. I was wrong about Jacinda and Rayann. And I was really wrong to put you last.”
Rayann and Hazel had suffered gunshot wounds to their abdomens.
Both had recovered fine, except Hazel had to wear an ostomy bag for a couple of months while her bowels healed.
At this, Rayann had been properly disgusted and left. Along with Mark, Hazel’s boyfriend.
It’d been two months, and through the grapevine I heard that Mark and Rayann were now dating. Jacinda had started dating Rayann’s ex, Gibson.
“It’s okay.” I shrugged.
I wasn’t one to not offer forgiveness, but she would never be my friend again.
Once burned, never fucking shy again was my motto.
“Asher is dying in prison.” She shook her head. “I had no clue about him. I’m sorry I encouraged you to try again with him.”
Cutter’s hand cupped my ass and he said, “It’s time to go.”
I smiled at her. “Bye, Hazel.”
She opened her mouth to say something more I was sure, but Cutter guided me out the door and to his bike.
Copper and Chevy stared at us.
“Nice hair.”
I immediately started to smooth it down, causing both men to grin.
“Not funny,” I grumbled.
I’d forgot I was in braids.
My hair and motorcycle riding did not get along.
I’d learned the hard way to always braid it, and always tuck it into my helmet.
“It’s kind of funny.” Copper chuckled as he placed his own helmet over his head.
As we drove to the meeting point, I thought of my life up until this point.
Never in a million years would I think a pseudo-arranged marriage would turn out to be like this for me.
But now that we were married, and I was officially a Clayborne, I couldn’t see my life going any other way.
I was happy, truly happy, for the first time in my life.
And that was all because of the man I was currently wrapped around.
He’d saved me, and I couldn’t dream up a better man.
I always mean what I say, even if I don’t mean to say it out loud.
—Cutter to Milena
CUTTER
I came inside, sweat dripping from every inch of my skin, and found my wife at the window.
“Watching me?” I drawled.
She raised a brow. “If there’s ever a time that I don’t watch you chop wood up outside with an axe, you should probably make sure I don’t have a brain tumor or something.”
This woman.
I grinned. “I’m gonna go shower.”
She licked her lips. “You do that.”
My hand brushed her hip as I passed, and I tugged on the tiny belt loop.
Her “hey” made me smile, and while she was distracted I snatched a fish stick off the plate in front of her—one that was likely for our kid—and popped it into my mouth.
I immediately did the hee-hoo-hee-hoo thing people do when they eat something incredibly way too hot.
She caught my face in her hands, brought my open mouth down to hers, then blew in it.
I closed my teeth around the food to keep myself from spewing it in her face, then started to laugh.
“That was new.” I chuckled after swallowing the still-piping-hot fish stick.
“I’m sorry, I panicked.” She blushed. “Those were like fresh out of the air fryer!”
I pulled her into my arms, careful of her plate of fish sticks, and said, “It turned me on.”
She rolled her eyes, uncaring of the sweat that was now covering her, and said, “It doesn’t take much, hubby.”
I pressed a kiss to her nose, then pulled away.
She rolled her eyes at the sweat left behind, but didn’t react more than that.
It was likely one of the cleaner things on her body right now.
With three kids under five, one of which was an infant, bodily fluids were her jam.
I headed up the stairs of our home—we’d decided to stay in the home that Shasha built for her, but added onto it—and stopped in the doorway of my daughter’s room.
She was playing with the toy kitchen that I’d made her for her third birthday.