Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 113353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
“Like to eat.”
“I appreciate a good meal. This is why I’m not a size six.” Not even close.
She curled her fingers and dug her nails into her palms to quell her reaction when he raked his eyes over her from head to toe.
“Not seein’ the problem.”
“I didn’t say there was a problem. But I’ll never be one of those women who can eat three pieces of leafy greens and a baby carrot and be satisfied.”
She wasn’t the type of woman who could give up simple pleasures—like sweets—to keep her body in an unrealistic shape. Mostly because she wouldn’t be doing it for her, she’d be doing it for the wrong reason, which would be attracting men who like thin, in-shape women, who spent time in a gym. She was none of that and never would be. If she felt like a donut, she would eat a fucking donut and not deprive herself of it. Life was too fucking short.
Plus, she hated to exercise. She tried it once. That was all it took to decide it wasn’t for her.
“Takes a lot to satisfy you.”
She opened her mouth to deny that in general, but then realized it was actually true. Whether it came to food or sex. “Yes. I’m not easily satisfied.”
This was another reason she didn’t like casual sex. With every man she’d been with, it took time and guidance for her to teach them what she liked and what made her orgasm. One night with a man wasn’t long enough for him to figure it out, and she’d walk away disappointed.
She reminded herself that wasn’t what they were talking about, they were supposed to be talking about food.
“Chris,” she started.
“Nobody fuckin’ calls me Chris. Not since I was old enough to work on cars.”
“And how old were you when you started tinkering with cars?”
“When I was old enough to hold a wrench. When Bebe left, Dutch started takin’ us to the garage every day. While we were there, he taught us how to work on cages and sleds, and once we knew what the fuck we were doin’, he put us to work.”
“Huh. Sounds like that might have violated some child labor laws.”
The uninjured side of his mouth pulled up. “Think Dutch gave a fuck?”
Jemma smiled. “No.”
“Right answer. Gave us a skill and a way to make a livin’. Not to mention, cheap labor for him.”
“But not a way to keep you boys out of trouble, apparently.”
Cage scratched his chin, considered what she said, then headed into the back bedroom. A second later he came out with a shirt in his hand. “Gonna go grab some grub from the bunkhouse. What do you need?”
“The staples. Milk. Eggs. Bread. For now, stuff to make a quick breakfast. Creamer, if there is some. Sugar, too. I don’t drink my coffee black. I might have to make a trip to the grocery store.”
He gingerly tugged his shirt over his head but didn’t put his arms through the holes. It hung around his neck like a scarf. “Jem.”
“Yeah?” She lifted her gaze from his damn chest. Ugh. What the hell was wrong with her? Could he see the turmoil brewing inside her?
His expression wasn’t of amusement, but of pain, maybe even a touch of embarrassment. “Don’t got money for groceries.”
Fuck.
“Needed to pay my dad back for all the baby shit, still not done doin’ that, and you keep addin’ to the list of shit I need to buy...”
This was why condoms were cheaper than kids. “Food’s important, Cage.”
“But the Amish...” He ground his teeth, then sighed. “The fuckin’ Amish supply us with a bunch of shit. Gotta make due with whatever they bring for now.”
“Which was why Trip was so pissed about you guys fucking with the Amish. You threatened that supply.”
“Yeah.”
“It saves not only you guys, but the club, a lot of money,” she concluded.
“Yeah.”
“Then that should’ve been a good reason not to fuck one of them.”
He blew out a breath. She could see the anger rising into his face.
“You didn’t fucking think, Cage. You did something stupid that threatened a relationship the club has. All because you were selfish and wanted some tight, virgin pussy.” She fed off his anger, letting it bubble in her own gut.
Last night, she had seen how passionate Trip and Stella were about making the club solid and successful. What Sig did, what Cage did, had risked that. Doing stupid shit was what destroyed the original Blood Fury. Both Sig and Cage knew that better than most—since they were both witnesses and victims of the result—and did it anyway.
“Jemma.”
“No, you’re not getting a pass on what you did. I get why Judge doled out punishment for breaking that rule. I don’t agree with how that punishment was delivered, but I get he needs to enforce those rules. They’re in place to protect the club.”