Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
The Baranovs are going to be a problem. I suspect Finn and his siblings haven’t wanted to admit the extent to which the Russians are muscling into the City. I love the Whelans, but they’ve been in power for a while now, and they’re not used to war anymore. They’re not soft, but they’re content.
And sometimes contentment is even worse.
I’ll have to take more extreme measures soon if I want to find out how much Kieren took when he decided to stray after some Russian pussy. Once that’s done though—he’ll be fair game.
I wonder if Regan would appreciate his severed head as a gift.
Probably not.
Maybe just a finger?
I’m thinking about dismantling Kieren when I approach my building. I have one hand shoved in my pocket, idly wrapping my fingers around Regan’s panties, when I come to a halt.
I think my eyes are playing tricks on me, because it looks as though the girl herself is sitting in the lobby of my building.
But no, as I get closer, it’s definitely her. She stands and brushes herself off, her back straight and her face carefully composed. A thrill runs into my stomach and I think back to the offer Finn made: this girl could be my wife if I wanted her. All it would take is a single call. Hell, a fucking text would do the trick.
She could be mine, and I want her.
That’s exactly why I have to say no.
“Didn’t expect to see you here.” I tighten my grip on her underwear. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Her eyes cut sideways like she’s afraid someone might see us together. I like that she’s wearing work clothes: modest sweater, dark slacks, her hair down, her make up done with a soft hand. Very tasteful and professional. It makes my dick hard.
“We need to talk.”
“I doubt that’s true.”
“Seriously, Liam.”
“You’re here to have a conversation?” I move closer and lower my voice. I’m tempted to grab her by the hair and to shove her own undies into her mouth. I wonder how she’d look in nothing but some ropes around her wrists and a ball gag between her teeth.
“Why else would I be here?” Her cheeks are flushed though and I know she’s thinking the same filthy thoughts I am.
God, this fucking girl.
What is it about her? Why can’t I get her from my head? I force myself to stop fiddling with her panties and cross my arms over my chest. Stay calm, stay focused, don’t forget this is business.
“I assumed you were here to beg for my cock again.”
Well fuck. Did I really have to say that? So much for business.
Her cheeks flare red. “That’s not it. My dad—“
“Your father’s got nothing to do with all the very filthy things you let me do to you. But don’t worry, love, it’s only natural you’d come crawling back. If you like, I’ll make you crawl some more, right until you open your mouth and take my big, hard—“
She hisses at me. “Liam! Stop it. I’m not here for sex, okay?!”
It takes a lot of effort not to laugh like an absolute maniac. “Alright then, so you’re really just here to talk?”
“It’s about Kieren and some things my dad told me earlier. Can we please just talk?”
I should take her somewhere public. Somewhere I can’t ask her to get down on her knees and to sloppily take my hard dick between her pretty lips. Somewhere I can’t tongue her pussy until she screams.
Somewhere smart.
“Alright, love, come on up to my apartment.”
God damn it.
She hesitates. I want her to say no. Be a smart girl, love, and fucking run. But she turns and strides off to the elevators instead.
I can still turn this around. I touch the underwear in my pocket. Tell her to leave, promise to meet her tomorrow afternoon at some fucking Starbucks filled with nice, normal people with their nice, normal jobs. Anything other than what I’m about to do.
“Allow me,” I say, pushing the elevator call button. I hold the doors for her.
“What a gentleman,” she says, dry as bone.
Damn right I’m not, love, damn right.
CHAPTER 7
REGAN
Idon’t know what I’m doing back here.
There are a thousand reasons why this is a massive mistake.
Exhibit one: the sweaty, amazing sex we had the night before.
Exhibit two: the fact that I definitely want to have that sex again.
But worst of all, Exhibit three: I’m pretty sure Liam’s going to murder my ex.
I sit on the couch as Liam pours wine. He offers to order us something to eat, but it’s getting late, already past midnight. I was waiting down in the lobby for a while, not sure if I’d even run into him and thinking I was about to get out of there, when he appeared.
He hands me a glass. I accept, but don’t drink. I know where that leads and I want to be better this time. He lowers himself into the chair to my left and crosses his legs. I love the shape of his thighs, the bulge of his arms, his sculpted chest and twinkling, confident eyes. The man’s a beast and he knows it. There’s no shame in him, no hesitation. He seems to walk through the world like he’s comfortable in every room, ready for any situation, and I’m deeply jealous of that.