Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
A broad grin stretches across Micah’s face, confirming what I already know. Wren is here. In Vegas.
What the fuck?
She hits him like a cannonball, plowing into his chest with laughter trailing behind her. He whoops, lifting her off her feet to spin her around in a circle.
I bite back a groan at the sight of her—gray eyes bright with happiness, blonde hair wild around her heart-shaped face, full lips curved into a bright, happy smile, porcelain skin all soft and glowing. The tops of her breasts are visible in her low-cut dress. I want to bury my face between them and die right there. I’d do it with a fucking smile, just starve for oxygen while drowning in her scent.
She looks like sex and sin in that red mini dress. It’s too short, ending right below her perfect ass. Clinging to every luscious curve. And goddamn, those curves.
Wren isn’t a dainty little girl. She’s maybe five foot two, but she’s all woman, thick in every way—her ass, her thighs, her belly. Nothing has ever made me harder than those curves of hers. Especially in that dress. It’s right up there with that damn bathing suit from the wedding.
I’m going to be beating off in the bathroom before the night ends.
“Put me down, you big idiot!” she cries through laughter. She isn’t mad, though. Wren Erikson hasn’t been mad at her big brother a single day in her life. I don’t think she’s capable of it. She idolizes him. He’s her hero, the one person on the planet she’d hide a body for without question.
And she’s the one person he’d let get away with murder.
“What? Can’t a motherfucker hug his sister?” Micah asks, planting a big kiss on her cheek before he sets her back on her feet. His gaze runs over her, his eyes narrowing with disapproval. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
She beams up at him, all sunshine and sweetness. “It’s called a dress, Micah. Mind your business before I tell Elodie that you said I looked ugly in the dress we picked out together.”
He gapes at her. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” Her sweet smile doesn’t waver even as she threatens to set his wife loose on him.
Wren may idolize her brother, but she doesn’t take any shit from him. Or from anyone else, for that matter. She’s a pretty little princess with a spine of steel. And goddamn, I’ve never wanted to taste a diabolical smile more. I watch her with my cock pressed against my zipper, fucking desperate.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
Micah holds up his hands, grumbling under his breath—something about her being evil incarnate and that fucking dress being too goddamn short.
“Knew you’d see it my way.” She pats him on the chest before turning to face me. Those gray eyes tangle with mine, sweeping me away in a maelstrom of…fuck. I don’t even know what this is. Does she know I’m crazy about her? Does she feel the same way? Sometimes, I wonder. Like right now. The way she looks at me from beneath her lashes, her lips curved into a smile, eating up the sight of me.
“Hi, Archer.”
I fight a groan as her lips wrap around my name the same way they always do. Like she’s tasting it for the first time.
“Wren.” I pull her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her. She melts against me, her tits pressed up against my chest. I hold her for a beat longer than I should, just breathing her in. She smells like tangy apples. That scent shouldn’t be nearly as erotic as it is, and yet…my cock is begging for relief.
“Happy birthday,” I murmur against her ear, unable to resist letting my lips brush the shell of it.
She shivers and presses closer for a moment before her wide, startled eyes meet mine. “You remembered my birthday?”
As if I’d forget it.
“Get your hands off my sister, Graves,” Micah interrupts before I can answer. There’s no real heat to the warning…but it is a warning, nonetheless.
“Well, someone is cranky tonight,” Wren teases, breaking out of my arms to harass her brother. “Are you hangry? Did they forget to feed you second dinner?”
He shakes his head at her, grinning. “Why do I already regret inviting you?”
“If you can’t take the heat…sucks for you.” She shrugs, looping her arm through his. “I’m here now, no takebacks.”
“You’re hanging out with us tonight?” I ask, my voice rough. Hard.
She glances up at me, startled by the question. Or maybe by my tone. Fuck.
“Yeah,” Micah answers for her. “Figured since I missed most of her birthday because of the game, I’d let her spend all of my money in Vegas to make it up to her.”
Fucking hell. Sitting across from her all night is the sweetest kind of torture. Close enough to touch but forbidden from doing so.