Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Because if life has taught me anything, it’s that there’s always another fucking shoe, and it’s usually aimed at my head.
“Okay, fine. What do you guys do for fun around here?” Melody asks.
The three of us look at each other, and then at her.
She rolls her eyes. “If anyone says me, I’m going back to Emily’s.”
“Are you really?” I growl softly next to her ear.
She shivers, but I don’t think it's in fear. “Maybe. Ask me again later.”
“How about pool? You any good?” Mad Dog asks.
“It’s been a while since I played.” There’s a sparkle in her eye that I like the look of.
“Let’s fix that.” I sweep her off her feet, ignoring her squeak of outrage, and carry her to the table all the way in the corner. “Rip, grab a few beers.”
“It’s not even noon,” Melody says with a laugh, squirming enough that I put a hand on her ass to hold her still.
“Definitely noon somewhere,” Riptide calls out from behind the bar.
“The clubhouse is like an airport,” Mad Dog explains. “Time doesn’t mean shit in here unless you’re on duty.”
I softly deposit her onto a nearby couch and fish out the balls, racking them up while Mad Dog grabs the cues. He hands one to Melody. By the time Riptide comes over, we’re ready.
“Teams?” he suggests. “I’ll play with Melody and you two can keep each other company.”
“Why do you get her?” Mad Dog grumbles.
“Because I called it first. You snooze, you lose.”
She drops the little backpack she uses as a purse on the couch and strikes a sassy pose, cue in one hand and the other on her hip. “Boys, there’s enough of me to go around.”
“You sure about that? Things got cut off a little early last night,” Mad Dog points out.
Riptide grins, real fucking smug. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Shithead.” I grab a cue from Mad Dog and swing it lazily at him.
He dodges with a laugh.
“Why don’t you break, baby,” Mad Dog says.
Melody looks so fucking good. T-shirt showing off the breasts I want to get my hands on again, and jeans hugging her hips just right. It’s not a shock that she’s fucking beautiful, or that she has a bit of an attitude. The first I knew from the moment I saw her after the race, and the second is a requirement for dealing with assholes like us. What I am surprised by is how much I like seeing her here, in our space. It feels right in spite of what got her here.
If I get my hands on the fuckers who hurt her, it’s going to be a fun time. For me that is.
We all watch as she puts down the white ball and leans over the table. Her hair hangs down, skimming the felt as she pulls the cue back and takes her shot. It’s a good break, balls are sent bouncing in all directions. A solid goes in.
“Solids,” I call.
She nods.
The game goes back and forth. None of us are pool sharks, but it becomes clear very quickly that Melody knows her way around a table. She’s a little rusty, but after a few shots, her technique starts to improve. I can’t have that.
Next time she’s up, I slide in behind her. “Here, let me help.”
“With what? Riptide and I are winning.” Her big brown eyes look up at me. In this light, I can see flecks of blue and green.
“Exactly.” I slide my hands down her arms, cradling her over the pool table. “Just close your eyes and feel the angle.” My “help” sends the white ball bouncing harmlessly off the side.
She twists in my arms. “I could’ve had that sh—”
My kiss cuts her argument off. Melody’s not overly short, maybe five-five, but that still makes her quite a bit shorter than us. I boost her onto the side where it’s easier to get access to her sweet lips.
“That’s cheating,” she gasps when I pull back.
“Honey, look around. Is this where you think you should come to play fair?”
I trace the line of a scrape on her neck, memorizing the small hurt before kissing it. Melody’s head tilts back, giving me better access. She moans as I cup a breast through her shirt. Her cheeks are flushed.
“A—anyone could see.” Her objection sounds a little hollow.
“Is that a no?”
She shakes her head. Perfect.
“Then we gotta be quick.”
I motion to Mad Dog to join me. “Sorry, Rip. Your turn to sit out. Keep watch for us, ‘k?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes, but shifts so he can see all the doors into the common area.
The rest of us move to a nearby couch that’s facing away from the room and toward the pool tables. That way if someone does come in, at least we’ll have some cover. Not that I give a shit who sees my dick, but I don’t want Melody exposed any more than she’s comfortable with. A little nervous is fun, too much is just a fucking buzzkill.