Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
My jaw clenches as I remember the fire that blazes in her eyes when she's pissed off, the way her cheeks flush when she’s jealous. Then I think about how fucking hot she is when she's mad, all that passion and fury radiating from her petite frame. I second-guess myself for a beat.
She stirs, and my body locks in place. “No, no,” she mutters, her head thrashing against the pillow. “Fuck off.” The words spill from her lips.
Every single hair on my skin prickles. Her fingers claw at the sheets, twisting the fabric between white knuckles.
“Eddy!” she pleads, and my hands shake as I force them to stay at my sides instead of grabbing her shoulders. “Cheers, geek,” she murmurs, her body finally stilling as sleep reclaims her.
My fingers loosen from the grip I had on her blanket, and I bring my fist to my mouth, biting down. What the hell kind of nightmare was that? Pacing up and down the side of the bed, I think about what I should do. Eddy. Who the fuck is Eddy? I pause. I know I can't wake her. She looks so damn fragile lying there. I need answers, but not like this. I'll get whatever I need out of her one way or another, if I decide to make her issues my own, that is.
I head down the stairs, my mind still replaying what just happened.
“She's asleep,” I say, reaching the living room.
Yana shifts on the sofa, brows pulled in. “Is she alright? I heard her moving around up there.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, trying to sound more confident than I feel, even though I’ll hear her voice for a lifetime. “Just a nightmare or something.”
“Sudden change of heart?” She baits me, brow arched as if she were watching my expression more than my words. There's a hint of judgment in her tone, like she's been waiting for me to reveal my true motives all along.
My eyes meet hers, a deliberate smile spreading across my face as I fall back into familiar territory. “Heart was never in this equation, sweetheart. More like, sudden change of cock.” The crude words come easily, my default shield when things get too real. But even as I say it, I know something's shifted inside me, and it's nothing I'm ready to face.
“Alright.” Layla pulls herself up from the couch, her shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of tanned skin. “Come on, you. Time to take me home.” She saunters over to me with that familiar swagger, hips swaying in a practiced rhythm, and grips onto my arm. Her fingers curl into my biceps the way they always do. Possessive, suggestive. But my body tenses beneath her touch.
The fuck? My body has never tensed around Layla. Not once in all the times we've been together. Her hand on my skin has always been an automatic green light, a direct line to my cock. But tonight, it feels like an intrusion, like something foreign against my skin.
Layla catches it immediately. She's always been perceptive in that way. A flicker of confusion crosses her face before she masks it. She pulls away and walks back to Yana, her boots clicking against the hardwood floor.
She pulls Yana in for a hug, arms wrapping around her with genuine warmth. “Thank you so much for tonight,” she says, voice softer than the one she uses with me.
"No problem," Yana replies, squeezing back. Their easy friendship strikes me as something I've never understood. How adaptable women are. Men could never.
I lead both girls back outside, the night air hitting my face with a welcome chill.
They climb into the van, and Layla adjusts herself before looking toward me through the open passenger window, her eyes glinting in the darkness with an invitation I've never declined before.
“You need calming down tonight? I could go for a round,” she adds with a smile that knows precisely what it's offering, pushing in her seatbelt with a decisive click. Her fingers linger on the buckle, tracing it suggestively as she waits for my answer.
I chuckle before shaking my head, my eyes looking out toward the shadows of the night. “Nah, babe. I'm good.”
She stares, shocked. I've never turned Layla down. The girl can fuck with a capital F. But her hand on my arm so soon after I had Melissa in them feels off.
I need to pull myself together. There's no way I can bring Melissa into this fucked-up life. I've put her through enough.
The next day, we're cramming duffel bags with gear, weapons clicking against metal as we prep for a quick run further up north for a lead on Candle.
I throw the last of the bags into the back of the van and fish my ringing phone out of my pocket.
“Yo.”
“Be careful,” Jada's voice drops to a whisper through the phone, her breath catching. “I mean it, Hux. Garret needs you. I need you.”