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)
Old lady, though? Can't be sure of that. Never thought I'd see the day where I was considering patching someone as my old lady, but when I think of Melissa, a small part inside me could want it.
Could.
Don't know if it does or if that's just my cock doing the thinking for me.
One thing is for sure, I can never be the kind of man she needs. Not ever.
Twenty-Six
Melissa
“Give me the damn cake.” Hella thrusts his palm toward me. He only just walked in on Garret and I decorating our current distraction. I didn’t see him after the whole hot shower sex, but I figured whatever Beast needed was important.
A laugh spills from my throat as my knife glides through the chocolate layers, the cake splitting open about as fast as my legs did when I first met Hella.
I slide the plate across the counter toward his waiting hand, then ease my weight against the kitchen table's edge.
Hella's fork hovers midway to his mouth, one eyebrow arching as he jabs it toward the remaining cake. “Are you not going to eat any?”
He pauses, fork suspended between plate and parted lips before the front door squeaks open and Jada's voice carries through.
“Sorry, I'm late!” Grocery bags rustle as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. “Oh, yum! Cake!” Her dark hair swings forward as she bends to press her lips against Garret's crown. “How was the kid?” she asks, shopping bags still dangling from her wrists.
“Which one? Hella or Garret?” I tease, and Hella's eyes narrow at me. I chuckle before turning to Jada. “He’s great. I don't mind watching him whenever you need.”
She places the bags on the counter. “It shouldn't happen again. A client waved fistfuls of cash demanding no one but me, so Sophie had no choice but to drag me in.”
Hella nudges his head. “I need you to start on my leg.”
Jada nods, pulling an apple from the bag. “When you're ready.”
Her gaze shifts to me, dark eyes scanning. “You have any ink? Aside from the doves on your hips?”
I shake my head.
Hella hooks his finger in mine, tugging me down onto his knee.
Garret flashes a cheesy grin my way while Jada continues unpacking groceries, unfazed.
One of Hella's hands settles around my upper thigh as he attacks his cake with the other. Being with him feels terrifyingly natural.
My fingers trace idle patterns on Hella's knee as I catch Jada's gaze. “No, none at all. But I've been thinking about getting one.” I straighten slightly. “Was planning to corner you about it, actually.”
She nods, the apple crunching between her teeth as she considers me. “What were you thinking?”
“One that goes up the side of my thigh?”
Her eyes sweep along my leg, lingering where Hella's fingers rest. “That'd be hot. Do you know what you want?”
I tilt my head, fingers still tracing circles on Hella's knee. “Not really.”
She brushes my comment away. “We can work all that out.”
Hella's hand splays against my belly, his fingertips pressing with gentle possession as Millie bounces down the stairs.
“It's ready?” she asks, eying the cake. She cuts a piece and takes a seat at the table, grinning like a twit at Hella.
I look around the room. “Is no one even slightly surprised where I'm sitting?”
They all answer, “No,” while keeping their eyes on whatever they're doing.
I scoff, shaking my head. What the fuck does he want now? Hella taps my leg. “Come on, I wanna run something past you.”
I stand, my pulse already picking up speed. “Run what?”
He takes my hand, his grip firm and possessive. “The fact that I'm not dealing well with having to keep my hands PG because of who's around.”
Jesus. The admission hits me square in the chest. Hella directs me up the stairs and into my bedroom, his fingers still wrapped around mine like he's afraid I'll bolt. He takes a seat on my bed and runs his hands over his face, the gesture so uncharacteristically vulnerable it makes my stomach flip. “Fuck, I'm really not good at this.”
“Not good at what?” I ask, closing the door behind me. The click of the latch feels final.
“This,” he answers, gesturing between us with a frustrated wave.
I stand a few feet away from him and cross my arms, needing the barrier. “That makes two of us.”
It's true; we've woven each other into a messy web all based on the fact that we make each other horny. And now what? We're supposed to talk about feelings?
His eyes look up to mine and something shifts in my chest. Something I don't have a name for and don't want to examine.
“So what do you want to do?” I ask, searching his eyes for answers I'm not sure either of us has.
“Honestly?” he says, his eyes still locked on mine and his thumb caressing my palm. “Anything you want.” He yanks me down onto his lap as his arm curls beneath my leg, cradling me. I wrap one of my arms around his neck. “What do you want, Melissa?”