Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
His eyes flared, then he immediately started working on his belt.
A rap at the door made him freeze.
Both of our heads turned in that direction.
“Brother,” Swiss’s voice filtered through the door. “Got a situation. We’re out in five.”
My eyes zeroed in on the doorknob, my blood instantly cold, thinking about what would’ve happen if my stepfather had decided to walk into the room and saw me naked in Elden’s bed.
He would’ve killed him.
Elden was standing stock still.
“Yep,” he grunted, voice tight.
The doorknob didn’t rattle.
“You got company?” Swiss teased through the door.
“Fuck off,” Elden ground out. “I’ll be out in three.”
Swiss chuckled. “Whatever, bro. If you’re that quick, I feel bad for the poor bitch.”
My spine was frozen solid, and it seemed as if every molecule of oxygen in the room had been sucked out.
Elden hadn’t moved, and he didn’t reply to Swiss now, he just stared at the door, body slightly in front of mine as if to protect me if Swiss walked in. But it wasn’t me who would need to be protected if he walked in.
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
There was a long pause followed by another chuckle before the sound of motorcycle boots thumped against the floor.
Neither of us moved for a while, we were still frozen in the moment.
I wished Elden had stayed frozen forever when his head finally moved, and his eyes landed on mine. They were no longer full of hunger, worship, ownership. His face was devoid of emotion.
His boots thumped on the carpet as he retrieved my dress and panties, tossing them on the bed beside me.
“Get dressed,” he barked.
I winced at his tone, my body still sensitive from his touch that now felt like something I’d imagined.
He didn’t look at me as he took a gun out of his bedside table, slipping it into his cut. I didn’t even react to seeing that, despite it being the first time I’d seen a weapon up close in my life.
“Lock the door behind me,” he said to the carpet. “Drive back to your mother’s place.” Finally, he looked at me. A thousand tiny daggers pierced my skin. “Don’t come back here.”
And then he walked out.
ELDEN
I had fucked-up.
Majorly.
I did not fuck-up. I had ironclad control over my life, over every single decision I made. I knew the consequences of losing that control. Could feel that cold in my every pore, the scent of metal and sweat. Never fucking again would I lose control. It was not just a promise I’d made myself but a vow necessary for my survival. I knew I’d die before I’d go back to that memory.
It wasn’t difficult. Not overly. Especially not when I found the Sons of Templar, found comfort in the structure, even though it looked like chaos from the outside. There was a hierarchy, certain rules—ones that looked nothing like the bullshit laws citizens followed—the main one being to never betray the club. I excelled at following the rules, at wearing the cut. And I’d almost, fucking almost, felt at home.
Until her.
The second she walked in, with her midnight hair, her flushed cheeks, her perfect fucking alabaster skin, the violet eyes that seemed to fucking glow. Something inside of me shifted. Something inside of me snapped. And I fucking hated it. Hated her. Hated myself. Refused to believe I could become obsessed with a woman—one who was barely a woman—the second I laid eyes on her.
I was a piece of shit, I knew that. She was still a fucking teenager. One of my brothers was about to be her stepfather. She had gone through fucking hell. And there I was, thinking about what it would feel like to have her pussy clench around my dick.
I’d never been so disgusted with myself. Never battled for control so damn hard or failed so consummately. I was unable to stop watching her, to not be near her. My eyes focused on my brothers, the younger ones who hovered around her. I’d been preparing myself to rip their fuckin’ arms off if they laid a hand on her.
I wasn’t sleeping. Barely eating. I was going fucking insane.
And that’s what had me going onto that rooftop. Because I had no other choice. Because I would go crazy without breathing her in. Without touching her skin. Just once. Just fucking once.
Because I was a piece of shit who couldn’t make the decision a good man would make, and that would’ve been to leave town.
That was my plan, initially. Follow her up to the roof, give me something to take with me, go Nomad to try to escape her memory, find control in another club.
But then I saw her. The sadness etched into her beautiful face. She’d told me what she’d gone through. Then she’d asked me to fucking kiss her. And even after what she told me, I did it. Because I was selfish. And because I wanted to give her what she wanted. I wanted to give her the fucking world.