Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98000 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“You’re such an asshole.” Dean walks over to his bed and sits down. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“You look it.” My eyes scan his side of the room. There’s nothing personal of his out, nothing that shows who Dean is or what he likes. No photos or anything hanging on his wall.
There’s a book on his bed, though, and I pick it up. The Count of Monte Cristo.
“Those are called books. They have words in them, and you read them.”
Ignoring him, I turn it over, run my finger over the back and spine. I can smell the paper. Old books even smell old, which doesn’t make any sense, considering they’re still currently in print.
“Jesus, stop molesting it.” He tries to pull it out of my hands, but I don’t let him.
“You’re reading this?”
“No, I’m eating it.”
I shouldn’t be as obsessed with this, with him, but that’s how it’s been from the start. I don’t know anyone in my world who reads classics like I do. Cil and Rory give me shit for it. Aislin says it’s cute. My father thinks it’s a waste of time. I think it makes Mom happy, because she likes to buy me books. I don’t know anyone who loves classics as much as I do, though.
“Fine. Ignore me. Read the fucking book. Do whatever you want. I’m going to bed. In case you didn’t notice, it’s been a long night.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
The book makes a soft clunk when I put it on the desk, and then I reach for his hand, running my fingers over his bruised knuckles. Bruises he got from saving someone who’s mine.
Dean tries to pull his hand away, but I don’t let him.
“I’ve never read it,” I say.
“Am I supposed to be surprised?”
He thinks I’m an asshole, but my little fighter is too. “Is it any good?”
“It’s my favorite. Let go of my hand before I make you.”
My dick twitches. “Huh.”
“What?”
“It gets me hard when you talk to me like that.” I tug his hand and press it against my bulge, grip looser than it had been, so if he wanted to pull away, he could.
His palm presses against my growing erection. I’m not sure if he even realizes he’s doing it. Dean still doesn’t want to want me, but he does.
I let go of his hand, toe out of my shoes, then straddle his lap.
You saved my sister.
“What the fuck are you doing, Tiernan?”
“That’s up to you…” I pinch both of his nipples and damn near come in my pants at his sharp inhale. “If you tell me you want me, I’m probably going to make you come. And I’ve decided I want to give you my mouth…it’s a really fuckin’ good mouth.” He deserves it after what he did tonight.
I pinch his nipples again, which pebble so prettily for me. They’re so pink against his pale skin. A sound of pleasure almost spills past my lips when his hands slide up and grab my waist, but I won’t give him my sounds until he tells me what I want to hear.
“Ticktock, fighter. I don’t have all night.”
“God, I fucking hate you.” His words are choppy, breathing quick.
How many times do I have to tell him?
“Everyone does. I’m used to it.” His skin is warm against my palm as my right hand slides down the center of his chest, over his stomach, then against the bulge in his shorts. “Let me hear it.”
His eyes close, the corded muscles in his throat tightening further. It doesn’t take a genius to see he’s fighting not to say the words he wants to say.
I palm his hard dick. His mouth falls open, and I’m dying for him to speak, dying to hear him say those three words that feel like such a fucking win when I pull them out of him.
“I fucking want you, you asshole.”
I smile. Six words work just as well as three.
CHAPTER TEN
Dean
I hate that I caved and told him what he wants to hear, but it’s true. I want him. Not because I like him, but because I want to possess him. This powerful, charismatic man is a terrible person in all the ways that matter, but then again, maybe I am too. Regardless of why I’m here or how much I despise him—or myself—it doesn’t change the fact that I crave him.
Tiernan doesn’t give me much time to dwell on it, his mouth crashing down on mine. The kiss is hard and demanding, punishing even, like maybe he hates himself for wanting me just as much as I hate myself for it.
His tongue pushes into my mouth, the two of us fighting for control. I tangle my hand in his hair, trying to pull him away, but all it does is make him grapple with me.