. why was he doing it? What was happening to my walled and angry heart?

That’s called thankfulness, Linley. Why can’t you say those words to this man?

Because the last man I said thank you to, apart from my dad, didn’t return home to me.

Chapter Ten

Patrick

Idiot. Dumbass. Fucking moron. Dumbass.

Shit, I’d already called myself that. What in the actual fuck had I been thinking bringing her here? Why hadn’t I put Blake in a guest suite? Shown her there instead of behaving like there was no other place to sleep besides my room.

I brushed my tongue with aggressive strokes and tried to forget the sight of her bare ass on display in all of its beauty. Or the fact she was thinner than the last time I’d seen her. She needed to take care of herself—why did I care what she did?

Wicked had made it perfectly clear where I stood. And it wasn’t anywhere near her.

Yet my dick hadn’t gotten the memo. He punched at my boxer briefs, begging for a chance to feel her heat.

I splashed cold water on my face to no avail. How was I supposed to go back in the bedroom with a boner that could poke her son in the eye?

I’d have to run through the room to take a cold shower in another bathroom and rub one out. That was all there was to it. Because this shit wasn’t going down.

“Dude, what is it about your mother?” I grumbled as I moved past his sleeping form.

She’d done something to me. It was the only explanation. Now, I couldn’t think straight when it came to her.

“Crazy. Batshit crazy.” Ice cold water hit my chest when I turned on the taps in the guest bathroom shower. “Shit.”

I fisted my dick and braced my forearm on the wall. That long spine gave way to her round ass, which led to those slender legs. I pumped faster, my balls already drawing up. It was the legs. They did it to me every time.

Smooth skin. Defiance she wore like a crown. Thighs that gripped like a vice. The legs. Those goddamn legs.

I tightened my hold and worked my shaft to the point I was panting. Legs. Legs. Legs.

Semen shot out and hit the wall.

“Wicked,” I grunted as I slowed my strokes. Another spurt coated my hand, and I slumped against the tile.

Congratulations, pecker. You just set a world record for fastest nut ever by a grown-ass man.

I hung a towel around my neck and slung open the shower door.

Legs. Those fucking legs peeking out of one of my T-shirts.

“Ever heard of a thing called privacy,” I barked even as my dick came to attention.

“We’re not kindergarteners,” she said sweetly before sticking a toothbrush in her mouth.

“Make sure you find the mouthwash.”

I strode from the bathroom, already rock hard again by the time I reached the bedroom.

Congratulations, pecker. You just set a world record for fastest recovery by a grown-ass man.

I couldn’t be pleased with my stamina for being pissed off with Marlow and her damn legs.

“If you poke her in the back it serves her right.”

“Were you talking to somebody?” She stood in the doorway to the closet as I pulled on pajama pants.

“No.”

“Were you walking around naked in front of my son?”

“It’s not like we don’t have the same stuff.”

“It is very similar.” She hit me with a genuine smile. “Especially in size.”

Her back hit the doorframe when I crowded her space. I towered over her, those pupils dilating in her dark eyes.

“I’ve heard a lot of things coming from your mouth. Complaints about my dick? Is that what those screams were, Wicked? Cause they sure didn’t sound like it to me.”

She swallowed thickly. “Maybe you don’t have much experience.” The words lacked her usual punch.

I inched my face closer to hers. “How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me? Did you just do it in the shower?”

She pushed at my chest. “Don’t talk to me like that.” Short puffs of air escaped her parted lips.

“I’ve been thinking about our communication problem.” My breath hit her in the face. “You and I do plenty of talking, but we’re speaking the wrong language.”

“You’re insane.”

I trailed my finger down her cheek, skated it the length of her neck. She shivered. “Hmm. Your body likes what I’m saying just fine.” I nibbled her ear. “It’s that head of yours that’s the issue.”

“I’m not stupid,” she breathed.

I pulled back and stared into her eyes. “No. You’re one of the smartest women I’ve ever known. But your head controls your mouth, and what comes out of it is dangerous. Except when I do this.”

I palmed her jaw and gently sucked in the crook of her neck, remembering how much she’d liked that. The scent of her skin was driving me wild. The softness. I wanted to keep exploring her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. I wanted to taste all of her.

“Patrick.” My name was a breathless plea.

I smiled in satisfaction. “See what I mean.”

She slapped me in the arm. “Get off of me.”

I stepped back, and she nearly slid down the wall. “Are those words I should pay attention to or ones I should ignore? It’s hard to tell the difference with you.”

“Shut up.”

“Too much talking, Wicked.” I climbed into bed. Blake mumbled and rolled toward me. “Night, little man.” I kissed the top of his head and reached over to flip the master switch for the lights.

The room went pitch black.

“Patrick,” Marlow whispered. “I can’t see.”

“You’ll find your way.”

She cursed when she bumped into something, but eventually the bed dipped.

“I hate you.”

“You’ve already told me that.”

“I really mean it.”

“Sounds like your problem, not mine.”

A little body snuggled against mine and this weird peace settled over me. I put an arm around Blake and held him close. Maybe it was my problem, after all.

Chapter Eleven

Marlow

I pried my eyes open. A solid, bare chest greeted me. On top of it was my favorite person in the world, zonked

Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ОБРАНЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату