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)
God, I love this stuff.
It works, almost every time, and it’s forgiving. Too much flour? No worries! Too few bananas? It won’t be great, but hey, it’ll still be bread. Good enough is good enough and that’s what I like so much about it.
I’m never wrong.
Even tonight, when I’m bored out of my mind, I can find some simple pleasure in taking raw ingredients and turning them into something good.
Idly, I wonder if Liam will eat any.
Probably not. I doubt that man’s ever so much as looked at a carb in his life based on the state of his body.
Unless he’s one of those lucky bastards who can eat whatever they want.
I’m humming to myself, cleaning up the dirty dishes, when the door rattles. I dry my hands. “Liam? Is that you?” He’s not supposed to be back yet. There’s a party tonight, a gathering of all the men at one of the Whelan family’s establishments.
I walk to the front hall, a towel over my shoulder, when the door slams open.
“What the—“
I take a step back, hand flying to my chest, as Liam storms inside.
“Regan,” he says, snapping my name out like it’s an attack. He slams the door behind him, closes the bolt, and slides in the chain.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
He turns and comes at me. I yelp, stumbling backward, but he grabs me and pulls me into him. His hands move over my body like he’s making sure I’m not wounded, and holy crap, a surge of desire and adrenaline pours into my core. My mouth hangs open and I can’t quite make words form.
That’s when I notice the blood.
“Stay right here,” he snarls, releasing me and striding into the apartment.
“Liam? What’s happening? Are you hurt?”
I ignore his command and follow. He’s manically searching the place, peeking behind the couch, checking all the closets, like he’s trying to play a game of psychopath hide-and-seek.
It might be funny if he weren’t covered in blood.
“Liam!” I grab him by the wrist. He pauses only for a moment.
“It’s not mine,” he says, answering my unspoken question, before pulling away to finish his search.
I stay behind, head ringing.
Not his blood.
But there’s a lot of it…
Someone’s hurt, and they’re hurt bad.
Worry creeps down my spine.
Dad and Luke were at that meeting.
“Slow down,” I say, catching up with him in the bedroom. He’s finished with his sweep of the shower and now he’s checking under the bed. “Would you hold on and talk to me? Is my dad okay? What about my brother?”
“Luke’s fine.” He gets to his feet, apparently satisfied that there aren’t any monsters lurking. “I’m not sure about your father, but I didn’t see his—“ Liam stops before he finishes that sentence. His face tightens and he looks down at his hands. He flexes them and lets out a breath.
“Liam… what happened?”
He touches my cheek. I feel a smear of something cold under his fingers. He tugs me closer, hands brushing down to my neck, before he crushes his lips to my mouth in a blistering, hungry, terror-inducing kiss.
The taste of him sends a shiver through me. I whimper against his lips, wanting more, but needing to hear him talk. Instead, he touches me, drags me to the table, shoves off silverware and papers sending them clattering to the floor, and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his hips as he rocks forward, tongue against mine, devouring me, and I feel his anxiety and his need peak as his hands roughly tug at my hair.
“Liam,” I moan, begging. “Please—“
He yanks hard, making my back arch. I grunt with pain as he nips hard at my neck and my throat. He pulls up my top, hands palming my breasts. I’m not wearing a bra and part of me wishes I was. My nipples are hard and it feels good, letting him touch me like this. He bends down to take one bud between his teeth and licks, sucking, making my hips wriggle with pleasure as I yank his hair in return.
“There was a shooting,” he says, kissing lower, sucking and biting as he goes. I lift up and let him slide my jeans off. “It was bad, love.”
“I have to… we have to…”
“I came home to take care of you.” He looks up as he kneels, mouth kissing my hips, around my panties. My core goes wild and my heart pounds into my skull, making me dizzy. “Let me take care of you, Regan.”
I hear it then, what he really needs. This isn’t only about me. He wants this too, desperately, like touching me will somehow bring him back to reality, somehow ground him. And now that he’s kissing me like that, how can I deny this? How am I supposed to stop it when the most terrifying and beautiful person I’ve ever met wants to make me feel good? Desperately, with an intensity that’s frankly insane?