Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Gus followed, dropping down on the bed, leaving her naked legs on full display as I tried to find my lighter.
It would be easy.
Too easy.
To reach over, rip off her panties, and slam inside her like she was tempting me to do.
One fuck.
I'd get her out of my system.
She'd get me out of hers.
It would solve the problem.
But create a new one.
Because how do you go up to a man you were trying to build a professional relationship with and tell him you fucked his baby sister?
The answer, you didn't.
So I couldn't.
Even if she was practically begging me to do it.
My fingers closed around the lighter as I rushed out of the room before I decided to say fuck it to everything. I yanked open the dirty window to the fire escape, climbing out, leaning back against the cool building, lighting the cigarette, taking a long drag.
"I just got my brother to quit those," Gus told me, ducking low to join me, scooting across the grate, likely scratchy and cold against her bare skin, moving to the railing, letting her legs dangle out over the street below.
"I was supposed to be quitting too," I admitted. "What?" I asked when her lips curved up as she looked over her shoulder at me.
"I've driven men to drink before. But smoking is a new one."
"Pretty girl, I'm sure it's not," I assured her.
"So, you think I'm pretty."
"Every man in Miami thinks you're pretty," I shot back. "And you know that," I added.
"I can't exactly take credit for bone structure, can I? That's from my father."
"Your father?"
"Yeah, the jaw," she said, tapping hers with her knuckles. "Our mom actually had a really weak chin. We lucked out in the genetic lottery. All I got from my mom was this height. Or lack thereof. And this frizzy-ass hair. Thanks, Mom," she added, rolling her eyes as she reached up to gather the strands and tuck them to one side of her chest.
"You two have the same mom?" I asked, glad for a tamer topic.
"Hard to believe, right? I'm so short and he's a giant. But, yeah, same parents. If you can call them that."
"Your father died, right?" I asked, even though I already knew since Huck had inherited the family business.
"So Huck told me," she agreed.
"You didn't go to the funeral? You live in town."
"Our father was a piece of shit with a drinking problem. And when he drank too much, he had a nasty habit of beating the shit out of us. Until Huck outgrew him. Then, well, he just screamed at us most of the time."
"Sorry, sweetheart," I said, having a hard time picturing this force of nature in front of me ever being smaller and unable to defend herself.
"I had Huck," she said, shrugging off my sympathy.
"What about your mom?"
"Oh, after the thirtieth black eye and fifth cracked rib, she packed a bag, and skipped town."
"Leaving you here?"
"I know, right? Mom of the year, right there."
"How old were you?"
"Nine. Two days before my tenth birthday actually."
"That's why Huck makes it sound like he raised you."
"If it is possible to raise someone like me," she agreed, legs pumping like a kid on a swing. "If you think I'm a handful now, you should have seen me in my teens. Let's just say I kept Huck on his toes. I should probably feel bad about that."
"Nah. He loved every minute of it. Even if he won't cop to it."
"Were your sisters rebellious?"
"One of them. I was usually the shit-stirrer. They were constantly covering for me with our mom."
"Are you still close?"
"Yeah. They call to bitch me out a few times a month still."
"For what?"
"Mostly not coming back to visit enough."
"Back where?"
"They're all in California.
"When did you leave?"
"When I was seventeen. Never went back. Not for more than a few days put together anyway."
"Do they know you're an arms dealer?"
"They know I am a biker. They likely assume we don't get together to knit sweaters and bake cookies. They don't ask. I don't volunteer. It's easier that way."
"Gotta protect your sisters," she agreed, nodding.
"Something like that," I agreed. "Which is why I respect your brother," I told her, crushing out the cigarette, ducking back inside the apartment, making my way back toward the hall leading to the bedroom.
"So, what? Every guy I sleep with is disrespecting my brother? All the girls your sisters sleep with are disrespecting you?"
"It's different, honey. You know it is," I objected.
"Who we fuck has nothing to do with our male relatives,"
"I didn't say it did."
"You said you respect my brother too much to sleep with me, so, yeah, you did."
"Why are you pushing this so hard?"
"Why are you fighting it?" she shot back. "Don't be such a pus—"
The control I had just barely been holding onto snapped, making me turn on my heel, hand grabbing her at the back of the neck before my lips crashed down on hers.