Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
So, I’d learned quickly to always be a giver. To never demand anything for myself. To never let my man get it up without putting it down, whether I wanted to or not.
Did I want to believe that there were men out in the world who weren’t like that? Ones who were selfless? Ones who cared about a woman’s feelings and her pleasure? Sure. But I’d also been around long enough to believe that chances were higher that most of them were like the men I’d known before. Especially bikers.
Besides that, though, there was the fact that things were complicated enough with Rook. I didn’t need anything else to worry about.
So I had to even things up.
Then just… put an end to it.
It wasn’t like it would be difficult for Rook to find another woman to take my place. I mean, he was gorgeous. And, yeah, the man knew what he was doing.
I shook those thoughts away and moved out of the bathroom, not wanting the club to think I was being rude or antisocial.
“Hey,” I said, giving Raff, Colter, and Coach a small smile as I moved into the kitchen.
The apartment was barely big enough for Rook and me. It felt downright claustrophobic with three huge bikers inside of it with us.
“There you are, you gorgeous thing,” Raff—ever the charmer—greeted me. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Rook.”
“About what?” I asked. I could feel Rook’s gaze on me, but I kept my own on his club brothers.
“He said you two can’t come party tonight because you have early plans tomorrow.”
“Oh, we have to drug test tomorrow,” I explained. “So we can’t drink,” I added. I mean, I could. Since I was technically not on parole and it was fully legal. But I wasn’t going to because I didn’t want to give Nancy anything she could use against us. That said, I didn’t want to sit alone in an apartment with Rook looking at me like he wanted to have a heart-to-heart, either. “But I’d be happy to come hang anyway. Steal some leftovers from the fridge.”
“Leftovers? Oh, honey baby,” Raff said, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “Detroit cooked for us.”
“Then I’m definitely in.”
“You hear that? Your girl is coming. You gotta come too,” Raff declared before dragging me toward the door before Rook could object.
“She needs her shoes,” Rook called as Raff kept pulling me out the door.
“Says who?” Raff asked, leaning down, and throwing me over his shoulder, his arm pinned on the backs of my thighs as he went down the steps.
My belly bottomed out at the sudden change. But also at being manhandled by one of Rook’s brothers.
Sure, Raff was just a flirty guy. But he shouldn’t have been putting his hands on someone who belonged to his club brother.
Rook would rightfully be furious. And in my experience, that anger would be directed at me for allowing it, more so than on his brother for perpetrating it.
Panicking, I pounded my fists into Raff’s back as we got to the lower landing.
“Put her the fuck down, man,” Rook said. His voice was calm. But I knew calm could be deceptive. So when Raff put me on my feet and headed over toward the woman waiting on his bike, I turned toward Rook, eyes a little wide.
“I didn’t ask him to pick me up.”
“Yeah, I know. I was there,” Rook said, those brows of his pinching again as he handed me my shoes to slip into.
“I didn’t fight until he was on the ground because I didn’t want to fall.”
“Yeah, I figured.” He was still watching me like some sort of experiment gone wrong, like he was trying to figure out what combination of ingredients had gotten screwed up.
“Hey, Tessa,” Colter called, making me look over to see him standing next to my car with several women in tight dresses. “You mind giving the girls a ride?”
Thank God.
A buffer against any questions or weird looks from Rook.
“Sure,” I said, offering him a smile I didn’t feel as I approached my car.
With that, the girls shuffled into the back, Rook climbed in the front, and we were following the bikes toward the clubhouse.
As soon as we got there, I made a beeline for the spread Detroit had left on the island. He’d opted for easy finger foods that leaned a little heavily on the carbs and grease to try to cushion all the alcohol that was going to be consumed.
While I wasn’t going to drink, I loaded up a plate, hoping the food would fill the weird sloshing feeling in my stomach.
Accustomed to loud, crazy club parties, I moved over toward the dining chairs and ate my food while the music swelled, while the beer pong table was pulled out, while the rules were laid out that not only do the losers drink, but they lose an article of clothing.