Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“You wanna tell me why you couldn’t use the front door to your own home?” Nix breaks the silence as well as the tension.
“I tried to open the door. It was locked. The lights were on, but I didn’t see anyone. It’s not like your truck was in your driveway. I figured the girls were with you somewhere, and I knew the window was unlocked, so why bother calling or texting?” I state it as a question instead of a statement as I attempt to step out of his grasp. Nix isn’t allowing it, though. If anything, his hands grip my hips tighter, holding me hostage in his arms. Only I’m not really putting up a fight if he were to kidnap me.
“Truck’s at the shop. Swapped it for the car because Rory asked if she could help me work on it, and instead of taking her to the shop, figured it’d be better to be home when she gets bored. Emmy’s already discussing how Rory’s going to ask for latex gloves in order to change the fluids.” That sounds about right with both girls. “The girls and I were out back, grilling. Your wine is on the counter. And the reason you don’t know the code is because I’m not texting it,” Nix states, dark hair messy from what I’m sure is him running his fingers through it, cerulean-blue eyes on me, and his lips... Jesus, there’s something wrong with me. His lips, they look pillowy soft. My mind is going in every which direction. How’d they feel pressed against my own, wondering what he’d do with them if they traveled along my skin, and then there’s that one place in mind I try to never to go to. The memo is lost in translation because suddenly, instead of my fingers working my clit, it’s Nix’s mouth on my pussy. Fucked, that’s what I am, and not in the way I’m craving to be either. Oh no, I’d much rather be on my hands and knees, in the bed, on the couch, the floor. It doesn’t really matter as long as Nix is behind me, both of us are naked, his hand wrapped around the strands of my hair, pulling my head back as his other one grips my hip enough to leave bruises as he fucks his cock in and out of my wet center.
“You keep looking at me like that, Leigh, something’s going to happen you’re not expecting.” Nix chooses that time to interrupt the fantasy that’s working through mind, making me shelve it for now, knowing damn well I’ll be using it for my spank bank material tonight.
“Oh.” It comes out like more of a purr. My head drops, eyes close. Hello, embarrassment city.
“We’re gonna come back to that, and soon.” His hand moves from its place on my lower back, sliding up the length of my spine until he’s massaging beneath my hair. I place my forehead on his chest, unable to resist the moment where I’m in someone’s arms, someone I’m not related to, and what else is a woman to do when she smells the unique scent of Phoenix Drakos, a spicy mix of oranges and spruce, along with undercurrents of oil from his day at the shop?
“Not tonight, though,” I murmur into his solid chest.
“Not tonight. You’ve got wine, and we’ve got the girls, but soon, Leigh, really fucking soon.” It’s then I take a deep breath and hold it in. Of course, my lungs fill with his scent, making my mind cloud with everything Nix.
6
NIX
“Dude, that’s not where it goes,” Emmy tells Rory as we’re working on the first car I bought as a teenager, then worked on it night and day in what’s now my shop. It was a pile of rust, filled with bondo body filler. I saved for three summers alone to pay for the car, then working and sinking another year’s worth of wages to get the Camaro to where it was running solid. That didn’t include the body work. Now, a shit ton of years later, it’s lovingly restored, and I see the look in Rory’s eyes. I love that girl like she’s my own, but no fucking way would I put her behind the wheel of something that goes too damn fast only for her to wind up wrapped around a tree.
“Yes, it does, dude!” Rory responds. I’m on a crawler beneath the car, changing the fluids in the 1978 Camaro Z28 with a V8 engine. I fucking think not. Neither Rory nor Emmy will get this car. They want something old and vintage, they’ll work for it. Even still, a V8 anything won’t be for them.
“Dudettes, one of you gonna hand me the wrench, or do I need to do it myself?” I break through their argument. Not like either of them will put anything away correctly, which is an annoyance when I’m at the shop, but here at home, while they’re with me, I give zero fucks.