Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“He did,” I lie. “We had nothing to do with it.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine, yeah, okay. But I need to do this. I need to pull my weight. I’ve never had this.” He waves his hands in the air. “I’ve spent my life alone, and now I’m here with you assholes, which I have to admit is torture, but I still need to contribute.”
I chuckle. “Torture my ass. You fucking love it.”
“I’m being serious, Tiernan.”
It’s the second time he’s used my name tonight, and I like the sound of it on his tongue. “You don’t call me by my name very often.”
He frowns, his forehead bunching together in thought, like he’s just realized he’s using my name and doesn’t know how he feels about it.
“Say it again.”
The ornery look on his face says he wants to do anything but, that he wants to hold back just because I told him to say it, but then he opens his mouth and says, “Tiernan.”
My chest feels strangely bubbly. It’s good but scary and confusing at the same time.
“You won’t get caught?”
“I won’t sell you out.”
“I’m not worried about that.” I should be, but everything with him just feels right, something inside me telling me I can trust him.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I won’t get caught.”
“Fine. Do it.” I shift, hoping I’m not making a mistake.
“I can discreetly get the money to you. I just—”
“It’s yours.”
“It’s a lot of fucking money.”
But I don’t need it, and despite Dean not talking about it, I have a feeling he could use it. He sure as shit isn’t going to want charity from me, though. “When people work for me, they get compensation. You’re doing the work, you get the money.”
He watches me for a moment, then slowly nods. What’s going on in there?
As if my hand has a mind of its own, I reach out and dance my fingertips along his temple. Dean’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. It surprises me when he leans in and takes my mouth. It’s another one of those unfamiliar slow kisses, one where the point isn’t to lead to fucking or orgasms, just a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths. Like we’re getting to know each other, savoring each second where our tongues tangle together, because real pleasure and comfort isn’t something either of us have had much in our lives, but it’s found us in these moments together.
When he pulls back, a growl slips past my lips, and Dean gives me one of his rare smiles. My heart thumps like a stampede of wild horses in response.
He takes the box with the weed off my lap, then straddles me. Now it’s Dean who takes out the lighter and the blunt, singeing the end with fire, before pulling smoke into his lungs. When he leans in, I automatically open my mouth, breathe in what he exhales, hold it in my lungs, then let it out.
“I thought this was my job,” I tell him.
“Not tonight.” He takes another hit, then ghosts his lips so fucking close to mine, giving me that one too.
This is…not me. I don’t understand it, but I don’t want to stop it either. I want to have it, hold on to it, savor it for as long as I can.
We smoke the whole joint this way, Dean taking some for himself, but mostly giving it to me. When he takes the box and sets it on the nightstand, then pulls me down so we’re lying side by side facing each other, I realize what this is.
Dean is trying to take care of me. That’s what he’s been doing all night.
I touch the bruise on his lip from Cillian. “Can you try to control your temper with Cillian and Rory at least? They’re like brothers to me, but though this time it’s your fault, if he touches you again, he’s going to have me to deal with.”
Dean gives me another of those confused looks, where his brows draw together and his forehead wrinkles. “He’s your family.”
“And you’re mine.”
Dean takes my mouth again. I’ve never kissed someone so much in my life. It’s always been something I did if I had to before fucking, but with him, I just enjoy tasting him and letting him taste me.
“Cillian is your cousin, I know that, but have you known Rory your entire life too?” he asks when he pulls away.
“Most of it. His father got close with mine when we were five. His mom couldn’t handle it…how we live…so she killed herself when he was eight. His dad was murdered when he was fifteen. He’s family. We take care of each other.” I can’t imagine what my life would be without Cillian and Rory. “Cil’s mom died too—natural causes for her. My uncle Rian is a good man. He loves Cillian, but he doesn’t know how to be close to him. Cil looks a lot like his mom. I think Uncle Rian sees her when he looks at Cillian. He loved her in a way my father never has with my mom.”