Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“You sat outside my office door and listened in on a conversation that you aren’t supposed to be a party to and now you’re giving me a fucking ultimatum in front of my men?”
“I guess that’s exactly what I’m doing,” she says boldly. “So, am I going back to our room and packing or are you going to have an adult conversation with me so we can work this out.”
“I was under the impression there was nothing to work out,” I mutter, refusing to let hope creep back in.
“Probably because you’re a fucking asshole who never lets anyone talk and just hear what you want.”
The men start laughing and I slap my hand down on the table.
“Get the fuck out. All of you,” I growl.
They get up and leave, all but Crusher. He gets up and comes to me, slapping a hand down on my shoulder.
“Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face, Hoss.”
“What in the fuck does that mean?”
“It means, you have what you want in front of you. Don’t fuck it up. Listen to her,” he mutters. Then he walks out. I watch as the bastard winks at Rory as he leaves, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with Rory.
Christ.
52
Rory
I watch as Noah leans back against the table, his arms crossed at his chest, and his face unreadable. My first thoughts shouldn’t be that he looks impossibly sexy, but it is. He’s wearing his faded blue jeans, the ends worn and frayed. No shirt, and his hair rumbled from this morning and not pulled back as normal, instead falling down around him like a halo of beauty. His face is a mask, giving me nothing, but that’s okay. I can think he’s sexy and still be pissed at him.
“You’re new to the club life babe, but there are rules. First and foremost is that the meetings with my men are sacred. It’s called church for a reason. You don’t eavesdrop, you don’t fucking listen.”
“I’d write that down, but since you seem intent on pushing me away, I doubt it’s a lesson I need to learn.”
“Second, you don’t fucking disrespect me in front of my men. It undermines my authority,” he says, ignoring anything I said about pushing me away.
Fine. Two can play that game.
“You’re new to being my boyfriend, babe, but there are rules. First and foremost is that you don’t demand things from me without giving me time to process them and talk to you. You don’t speak over me and refuse to let me get a word in edgewise.”
“Funny, I thought to be your man, you had to have feelings for me,” he growls, stressing the word man and making it clear he didn’t like the term boyfriend. Whatever.
“If you don’t realize I have feelings for you, Noah, then you’re not only stupid, you’re blind,” I tell him.
I’m feeling guilty. I know what hurt him the most is that I didn’t tell him immediately that I loved him. I have so many emotions and the biggest one is fear. I have no idea how I’m supposed to make Noah understand when I’m not sure I do myself.
“How long will you hold it over me, Rory? How long will it affect what we have?” he finally asks, sounding tired. “Will I have to pay for it the rest of my life?” he asks. “I get it, Gorgeous. I even fucking admit I deserve it, but I’m not sure I can live like this.”
“I don’t understand, Noah. Live like what?” I ask, so confused and feeling completely clueless.
“I don’t know if I can live our new life together and remember what it was like with you before. It’s not fair, I get that, but I… Fuck, Rory. I miss what we had.”
“What we had? Noah how is what we had any different from what we’re sharing now?”
He looks at me and for a second his face looks like I just slapped him.
“How about for starters you refuse to make love to me without a condom?” he growls.
“Uh…Hello? You demanded condoms before. Are you getting pissy now because I’m the one demanding them? If they cramp your damn style that much, lift your lockdown long enough for me to go get on the pill and the problem will be solved.”
He stares at me, and I get the distinct impression that my answer didn’t make him any happier.
“What?”
“How. Fucking. Long?” he growls, using each word like an accusation. The only problem is, I have no idea what he’s accusing me of.
“I don’t understand,” I tell him, starting to believe no matter what I say, it’s not going to make anything better.
“How long are you going to hold my failure over my fucking head? How long will you let it affect our relationship? How we communicate with each other? How we fucking sleep with each other?” he growls.