Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106806 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
“It’s fine,” I say quickly. “We can share the bed.”
Oliver smirks. “Try to keep your hands to yourself, Savvy.” His gaze flicks to my book, where I left it on the middle of the couch. “Even if tonight’s reading put ideas in your head.”
“That won’t be a problem.”
Eddie chuckles. “I’m staying out of this one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
OLIVER
What a fucking night.
I’m exhausted on every level. The fight didn’t go as well as I’d thought it would, and I barely eked out a win. And then Chuck? That motherfucker. I knew he had no principles, but I didn’t think he had it in him.
Leaning back against the headboard, I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of Savvy getting ready for bed in the bathroom. I can’t pretend I’m disappointed to be sleeping in my own room tonight. The couch isn’t awful—it’s some high-end shit my dad’s decorator picked out—but nothing compares to a real mattress.
Yet somehow, despite how tired I am and how soft these sheets are, I already know sleep won’t come easily. Not when she’s so close.
When Savvy walks back into the room, she’s still wearing my sweatpants. I’m not sure what’s hotter—the way they stretch around her hips and or the fact that she’s wearing my clothes. It would take the lightest tug to expose that sweet ass to me again.
What was she thinking, hanging out in my living room dressed like that? Was she hoping I’d come home and see her, or was it a coincidence?
My body aches so much I wouldn’t think it would be possible to get hard, yet just the thought of her wearing that fucking thong for me has blood pumping south.
“You’re sure you’re good with this?” I ask, my voice more gravelly than I expected. Because hell, I’m not sure I’m good with this.
“If I had a problem with it, I could sleep on the floor.” She hooks her thumbs in the waistband of the sweats and shoves them down. She steps out of them and climbs into bed, sliding those long legs beneath the covers.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I manage to bite back a groan. She’s gonna kill me.
She rolls to her side and stifles a smile as she studies my face. “I don’t know. Maybe I should go share the couch with Eddie.”
“You’re not funny.” I scoot down the bed to lie down.
I turn away from her to click off the bedside lamp and barely hear her whisper, “I do, you know.”
I roll to my side, wishing I hadn’t turned off the light. Wishing I could see her face. Between the blackout curtains and dark walls, I can’t even make out her silhouette. “You do what?”
“Care about you.” Cool fingertips touch my face, graze over my stubble, along my jaw and to my ear, down my neck. “I tried not to, but you’re kind of irresistible. For an asshole who is absolutely nothing like the sexy and heroic Arturo.”
I cough out a laugh. “Right.”
The low drone of the TV in the living room suddenly stops, and the only sound left is the hum of the fan and the soft hush of our breath.
I sense her moving toward me, and I don’t move an inch. I’m afraid that she’ll stop, and I want her close, even knowing she should stay away.
Since she kissed me two weeks ago, I’ve barely thought about anything else. When her lips find mine in the dark, it’s like the answer to a prayer. She’s soft and sweet and so fucking gentle. Like she’s afraid she might break me. She should be worried that I’ll break her.
I lick across the seam of her lips, and she parts them for me, sighing into my mouth as if she’s been thinking about this as much as I have. She shifts closer, and I angle my head to kiss her more deeply, slide a hand into her hair. Christ, she’s sweet. And I have no right to touch her.
She pulls away and straddles me, and I grunt as her knee catches my bruised side. “Shit,” she says, sliding off before I can grab her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not, though. You’re beat to hell and . . . I’m sorry.”
I reach for her in the darkness, finding her hand and grasping it between both of mine. “Don’t apologize.”
“Hey,” she whispers. “Tell me something.”
“What?”
She draws in a long, shaky breath. “Why did Chuck do this? He’s lost before, but he’s never attacked someone after. Not as far as I know.”
“He’s had it out for me for a long time.”
“Why?”
I shrug even though she can’t see it. “Because I’m better than him. Because I call him on his shit. Because I got my sister away from him before he could do more damage. Our hatred for each other has been building from the beginning.”
“I’m still sorry,” she says. “He’s such a dick, but I had no idea he was this crazy.”