Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I stared at the bastard as he fidgeted nervously, watching me. I eased my fury with the fact that, one day, I’d kill him brutally.
“Before I go, I want to hear you call her by her name,” I told him.
“Lassandra,” he choked out as if it was painful to even say.
I shook my head. “No, fucker. The name she wants to be called. The one her momma called her.”
He winced at the mention of her mother. “Lace.”
Thirty-Five
Lace
It was almost cruel, having to sleep in this room again because tomorrow would come. Mal would return from whatever business he’d gone with Luther and Linc to handle, and I’d go back to his house. Even without Luther being here, just sleeping in a room that belonged to him felt warm. I’d fallen asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, which was rare for me.
Glancing at my phone, I saw that it was 3:16. I wasn’t sure what had woken me up, but I didn’t mind. I wanted to enjoy being here.
After dinner, I had watched a movie with Jayda, Branwen, and Stevie. That was nice too. Stevie showed me a new trick that she’d taught Maui, and Maui was happy to see me. He’d kept coming over to snuggle his head in my lap. I wished Mal had a dog.
Heavy, booted footsteps came from the hallway, and I bolted up in bed. He was back. At least I thought that was him. I hoped it was. But if Luther was here, did that mean I had to leave with Mal? It was the middle of the night. I didn’t want to go yet.
Glancing at my pillow, I decided to lie back down and pretend I was asleep. If it was Mal, I doubted he’d wake me.
Turning my back to the door, I tried to breathe deeply and slowly as the door eased open.
Please let it be Luther.
He hadn’t been here when Mal brought me this evening. He’d already left for whatever thing they had to handle. I’d asked Branwen where they had gone, and she’d shrugged and said it was best we didn’t ask that question. That the answers weren’t always ones we wanted to hear.
The door clicked shut, and the footsteps softened as they drew nearer.
“I’m hurt, sugar,” Luther’s deep voice drawled. “I was expecting you to be happy to see me.”
Rolling over, I smiled up at him.
He pulled a gun from behind his back and laid it on the bedside table, then began to take off his boots while keeping his eyes on me.
“I wasn’t sure it was you,” I explained. “I am happy to see you.”
His brows drew together. “Who did you think it was?”
I shrugged. “Mal. I was afraid he might be here to take me back to his house.”
Luther grinned, and a wicked glint in his eyes made me shiver. “I wouldn’t have let him wake you up. He’ll be here in the morning though.”
He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it on the ground, then went to the zipper on his jeans. He was undressing. My heart began to beat wildly as I watched him.
I’d replayed two days ago in Mal’s kitchen a million times in my head. There hadn’t been any calls from Luther, just text messages. He had been busy as had Mal. I assumed whatever business they had been handling had to do with where they had gone tonight. But his text messages had always left a huge smile on my face.
When he was in only a pair of black boxer briefs, he pulled back the covers and stared down at me, his gaze traveling down my body slowly before he climbed in beside me. I wanted to touch his chest, run my fingers over it, feel every hard ripple. Study all the artwork that decorated it.
He opened his arms. “Come here.”
I immediately moved into his embrace with a sigh of contentment as his arms wrapped around me.
He kissed the top of my head. “Are you still sore?” he asked with his nose buried in my hair.
I’d admitted in a text last night that I was sore after he asked. But it was the most wonderful sore in the world.
“No,” I replied.
“Mmm,” he murmured, and one of his hands slid down my back until he was cupping my bottom. “That’s good. I was gonna let you sleep, but I don’t think I can do that, sugar.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” I admitted.
“Good,” he said with a pleased smile, then slipped a knuckle under my chin to lift my head up before he lowered his mouth to touch mine. “Sweetest fucking mouth.”
I opened for him, needing the taste again. It was whiskey, tobacco, and cinnamon. It was heady. He groaned as his arms tightened around me, and his tongue circled mine.