Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’m busy,” Milo replies without a care in the world.
Lester nods. “They say the club is better than it’s ever been.”
“Yes, it is,” Milo states.
“Proud of you.” Lester claps him on the back.
“You never wanted me to join,” Milo points out, and I can hear a bit of anger in his tone.
“Yes, but you’re like your mother and do what you want. So I’m glad you’re turning it around for the better.”
“Lissie, do you hang out at the club often? Milo won’t let me go,” Cassy asks.
“A little, yeah.” Milo grinds his teeth at my answer. “But not lately.”
I observe him as he interacts with them, and it’s not the same way he is with me. I can tell he knows these people, but he’s still reserved, not that he isn’t with me. Except when Milo looks at me, I feel like he sees more of me as I do him.
Cassy makes small talk with me for a good hour before Milo stands and tells them we have to go. As we walk out and he hands me my helmet, I turn to face him. “It must be nice to have people who love and care about you.” Milo doesn’t respond. He simply puts his helmet on and climbs onto his bike.
I don’t know much about my father—as far as I know, he died when I was young. All I had was my mother, and I saw Savannah on holidays. So I don’t understand why he doesn’t appreciate the family he has.
I climb onto the bike easier this time. Milo reaches back, grabs my hands, and pulls them tight around his chest. He holds one hand there as he starts the bike. I lean my head against his back. He smells of leather and so many possibilities.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t get you to work sooner rather than later?” Milo says as he walks into the apartment the next day. I’m curled up on the couch, wearing the dress he bought me and reading a book I started last night and haven’t been able to put down, thanks to Letti and her extensive book collection.
“What?” I ask. I sigh as I lay the book down on my chest. Dammit! I just got to a really good part. He picks up the book and scans the page as his frame takes up all my air and space. He’s dressed in his leathers and smells just as good as he usually does. He lets out a haughty laugh before those dark eyes find mine.
“He slides it in, nice and slow, hitting every spot imaginable.” He stops reading aloud, glances at me, and returns to the book, picking up where he left off. “He’s a God in the bedroom, the way he slips one hand behind my head and grips my hair while the other hand finds its way to my core.” He stops again and raises a brow. “Do you know what a core is?” I’m too stunned to speak because of the way he just read, which has me squeezing my legs a little tighter together. Why was that so hot? Is this how he feels when I read to him?
“Elizabeth.” I don’t even know what he’s saying. When I don’t answer, he looks back to the book. “His hand plays with me like he’s been playing delicate music all his life and it’s waited for the right chord to pluck—my chord—and oh my god, talk about build-up. His hands hold me still. His body weight is heavy, and his…” My eyes are closed as he reads, and when they spring open at the sudden silence, I see him studying me. “You enjoy this.” I nod. No shame in it. Romance is for everyone. Men watch porn because they are usually more stimulated by visuals, while women prefer to create the perfect scenarios in their minds.
Who knew this was my perfect scenario?
“Elizabeth, if you don’t—”
My hand slides between my legs. I just need a little pressure. But as I touch myself with Milo watching, I realize I need more than a little pressure. His tongue darts out of his mouth and licks that scar I love. There is definitely something to be said about touching yourself with a man who exudes sex appeal from his pores while watching you. I work hard to keep my hips steady while I maintain eye contact with him.
“You can go now,” I say, smiling.
“So you can fuck yourself?” He scoffs. His eyes leave mine and stray back to my hand, playing between my legs. “I can see you applying pressure. Do you need help?” He shows me his hand that isn’t holding the book, and I shake my head.
He smirks.
“Bye, Milo,” I breathe out.
He looks pained at first, but then he takes my book with him when he leaves. And the first thing I do is run to my room and touch myself for real, with Milo’s face front and center in my mind. Even when I try to think of something else, it’s his face that dominates every image in my head.