Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
A flush rises on her cheeks. “I really want to, I promise. I just know I’m not ready.”
I grin. “Then get your sweet ass up and show me to the door.”
Olivia laughs, swatting at my chest, as she slowly gets up. I nearly groan as I watch her get up, her ass drawing my complete attention. I promise myself that one day I will bend her over a sofa and fuck her relentlessly, making sure to leave my handprint on her deliciously lush ass. When she turns around, I’m so hard that I have to quickly adjust myself while she’s not watching. Then, I follow her—eyes still glued to her ass—and fight the urge to pull her back into my arms. We’re halfway to the door when she suddenly gasps, “Oh no!”
“What?” I ask, watching as she rushes into the kitchen.
“I’m a moron!” she calls back. It takes her a few minutes, but she comes back, carrying a large plastic container. “I made a ton of peanut butter cookies and didn’t even put them out for dessert!”
I bend down and press a gentle kiss against her lips—mostly because I can’t stop myself from doing it. “If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have bought dessert from the bistro.”
“Theirs was probably better than my cookies,” she replies, blushing up at me.
I pop open the lid, grab one, take a bite. Immediately the taste of peanut butter and vanilla explodes. There are other tastes in it, too. I’m not good enough to ascertain each one of the individual flavors. I just know it’s the best damn cookie I’ve ever eaten. “Shit, Livy, this is so good.” Her laughter bubbles out, warm and proud when I lick a crumb from my thumb. “If your cooking’s anything like your baking, I’m in trouble tomorrow. I might just ask you to marry me so I can keep you barefoot, pregnant, and in my kitchen twenty-four-seven.”
Her blush deepens. “Blade …”
I can tell my girl is not used to compliments, so I bend down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “That’s the only kiss I trust myself to give you right now, sweetheart.”
We walk to the door together and I hate like hell that I have to leave her. I’d give anything to stay the night. Fuck, part of me wants to move her into my apartment.
“Drive safe, Blade,” she orders quietly.
“I will,” I promise as I pull her body to me one last time. I look down into her beautiful eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Livy,” I say, not trusting myself to kiss her again.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“So am I,” I admit.
“Will you text me when you get home so that I know you’re okay?”
“I can do that,” I say with a wink, before walking outside. “Lock your door, woman,” I mock growl, making her giggle as I go outside. The night air bites cold as I head for my car, the container of cookies in my hand. I slide behind the wheel, still painfully aroused and hard.
Olivia Davis has no idea of the hold she has on me. She’s as good as claimed me—even if she doesn’t understand that. All I can think about now is claiming her right back—sinking deep inside her and painting her womb with my cum—making that barefoot-and-pregnant threat I gave her earlier a damn reality.
I want her and I’m not going to wait much longer. Whatever secrets her past holds, I will take them and find a way to show her that she can trust me. I’ll never hurt her. It’s just not possible. This woman has me wrapped around her finger.
9 BLADE
Two Weeks Later
Gatlinburg’s got that tourist hum—families dragging kids, smell of smoked meat, sweets, and fine dining all combined and hanging thick in the air. I barely notice. My focus is on the main entrance to the restaurant I’m in—Smokey’s Cantina. It’s a locally owned joint and one I’ve gravitated toward since being here. I’ve been sitting at a corner table for a good thirty minutes. My brother is running late. That doesn’t surprise me. I’m always early, but Bear never gets in a damn hurry. Eventually, I see him stroll in like he owns the world. I’ve always loved his ability to do that. It doesn’t matter where he’s at or who is around. Your eyes just gravitate toward him. You know he’s someone who can make your life hell if you fuck with him. I stand up, but then I see the man behind Bear. Holy Shit. It’s Hangman—our club’s Enforcer. I’ve had to be away from the club for too damn long and I don’t get to see my brothers enough.
My eyes scan him, before smiling. The bastard hasn’t changed.
Broad shoulders that stretch his cut, a scar down his jaw like a battle stripe. His eyes, ice-blue and sharp enough to cut glass, lock on mine. The man looks like he could kill with a glance and still laugh about it over a beer. Tattoos crawl up his neck and vanish into his beard. Saint’s patch gleaming. He’s every bit an enforcer. One of our enemies called him death walking and that’s precisely what he is to them. I take the few steps to him, not waiting for them to reach me. “No fuckin’ way,” I practically growl.