Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
“Like this greeting. A man could get used to it. You in my shirt, it’s hot as fuck. Though, you could lose what you have on beneath it.” His mouth presses firmly against mine, and when his tongue skates across my lips, the slightest moan leaves my lungs. He swoops in, pulling me up until my legs wrap around his thick waist, feeling his hard cock beneath his jeans.
We’re a tangle of limbs, though the only thing I’m doing is slowly rocking my hips back and forth. Locke is doing the majority of the work; alright, all of it. He’s walking while kissing me like he’s been lost at sea and hasn’t been home in months.
“Locke,” I purr in rapture when we’re inside the house, his foot slams the door shut, and my back meets the wall.
“Need to shower. Want you in there with me.”
“Okay.” His nose slides along mine, eyes hazy from our kiss, lips swollen. In this moment, I’d do anything he asked. He continues walking through the house. Our kiss might have ended, but it’s clear as day that he’s reading me like an open book.
“I’ll put you on the counter. We’ve gotta talk.” My ass is planted on the cool granite, and I lose his warmth when he turns on the shower, his second of the day, but I know him enough by now that when he’s on the road, hooking up a car, he sometimes rolls around in dirt, oil, or glass. I’m actually surprised he picked me up and carried me. Usually, he’ll drop a kiss, tell me he’ll be right back, or strip us both, and we shower together.
“That’s not ominous or anything.” He pulls his shirt off with one hand, tugging it in a way that makes his lats ripple, causing me to have a full-body shiver. He bends down to unlace his work boots, kicking them off one by one, then doing the same with his sock. When it’s all said and done, he’s down to nothing but his jeans. The clanking of the belt, the pulling on the button, and the rasp of the zipper have me breathing fast and heavy.
“Sugar, you and me, we’re rock solid. We’ll have to pay the Pied Piper when the time comes, and the grudge you’re holding against Jace isn’t doing us any favors for when that time comes. You keep icing him out, he’s liable to do the same to you. I’ll deal with whatever he throws my way. What I don’t want is him doing the same to you.” I hate it when he makes sense. I’ve yet to reach out to my brother on my own. When he calls, I’ll answer, but the communication will be short and sweet. What he hasn’t done is apologize to me for being cuckoo about my location and coming in screaming hot on his motorcycle, creating a scene.
“You’re right.”
His jeans and boxer briefs drop to the ground, and his thick cock is on full display. The piercings he has on the underside cause my thighs to slam shut and wiggle in my seat. A Jacob’s ladder, four of them, barbells, starting beneath the head and traveling down.
“I’m sorry, I’m what? Did I just hear you correctly?” Locke stays out of reach, and I’m left to pout, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Yes, I need to call him and my mother. I’m assuming Colt called you about my car?” He slides closer, cups my cheeks, drops his forehead to mine, and it’s really hard to wrap my head around what I should do instead of what I want to do.
“He did. I’ll snag your keys Monday, haul it here, and you can deal with it once you figure out what you want to do. That’s assuming you’re not putting four grand in it.” He would assume right.
“Absolutely not. I’ll probably sell it to one of those we buy junk cars places. The thought of piecing it out and watching it sit for months, if not years, is unappealing, to say the least.” I don’t go into the dismal number of vehicles that are in the price range of what I want to spend.
“Good, and even better that you’ll call Jace. The man will go to the nearest dealership and take care of the problem without thinking about the fallback.” He drops a kiss to my lips, backs away, and I groan. I’m tempted to join him, but the pile of laundry is silently glaring at me in the corner of the bathroom saying why aren’t you in the laundry room? I wouldn’t usually mind, except there’s more of my clothes than his, and I’m slowly dwindling down on wardrobe selections I have stocked at Locke’s house.
“You’re not wrong. I’m going to start a load of laundry,” I tell him, starting to slide off the counter.