Tempting Little Thief (Girls of Greyson #1) Read Online Meagan Brandy

Categories Genre: College, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Girls of Greyson Series by Meagan Brandy
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Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
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As I step into my closet, tossing the robe into the hamper, my body stills.

Footsteps and the low trickle of water reaches my ears, and I tear through the space, throwing open my bathroom door.

Kylo whips around, throwing his hands up, a grin spread across his lips.

I look from him to the bath, bubbles spreading before my eyes, and I snap them back to his. “What the hell are you doing in my wing?”

“I have permission,” he rushes to add.

My head yanks back, a humorless laugh leaving me. “Excuse me?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” comes from behind, and I spin as Kenex steps around me, wine bottle and glass in his hand.

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. I stand there, watching as the two prepare a bath, and then Saylor is there.

“Excuse me,” she says quietly.

All I can do is step aside and glare at them and the plate of cheeses and fruits Saylor sets on the glass shelf designed specifically for this use.

She dips her head, walking out, and then the boys follow.

I blink and blink again, and then my phone beeps from my room.

With backward steps, I go to retrieve it, a text from Bastian waiting on the screen.

Bastian: nothing a hot bath can’t fix.

Frowning, I reread those words with a wave of confusion.

“Bad day?”

“Nothing a steaming bath won’t fix.”

My memory clicks, remembering the conversation, if you can call it that, we had that first day. My brows crash, eyes darting over every inch of the space.

My bathroom is a thing of beauty, a personal escape meant solely for me.

Black marble floors with a floating countertop and large golden bowl sinks rising above them, a fountain-style spout and black mirror that only allows for your reflection when you’re directly before it, a warm, golden tone light reflects around its surface, fanning out over the walls into a soft glow. The walls are the same black marble as the floor but gold-dusted.

Though that’s not what my gaze is frozen on.

It’s the golden candles on the three-tier corner shelves, each one’s flame flicking, when I’ve yet to light the new set. Same as the ones at the head of the jet bath, which sit angled in the same corner. The deep, arched chromotherapy tub is full and mountained with bubbles, my bottle of melatonin and marijuana-infused soap at the foot of the steps. A bottle of some wine I’ve never heard of the twins left sitting at its edge, the glass from my room decanter set beside it.

My pulse jumps up, but only by a single beat as I step into the private zone.

The closer I get, the deeper my frown grows. Steam rises through the soapy suds, and I dip my fingers inside. It’s as hot as it can get.

Just the way I like it.

This is exactly what I needed right now, water to swallow me whole without repercussion.

But how does he know this?

Slowly, I start to strip until I’m completely naked, and climb the three small stairs, stepping down into the oversized bath.

Sighing, I drop my head back on the embedded pillow and kick the jets on, but a few minutes in and one of my eyes pops open, staring at the wine bottle.

I reach over, grab it, and search for the opener, but it’s not there.

Rolling my eyes, I go to set it back down, but then the top catches my attention.

No cork.

A twist-top wine?

I fumble with the plastic seal a bit but get it opened easily enough and take a slow sniff.

Cinnamon and maybe … clover?

Pouring a small taste in the glass, I let it settle over my tongue.

Black cherry.

“Hmm.” My brows lift, and I pour a decent glass, lowering into the water once more.

My phone beeps again, and I reach for it, having almost forgotten how I got here.

Bastian: like the wine?

A small smile pulls at my lips and I lie back against the bath pillow.

Me: I do.

Bastian: good ’cause it took me way too fucking long to pick it out. The labels don’t say shit about what they taste like.

Something in my chest warms and I lower my lips beneath the water.

Me: you bought this wine for me?

Bastian: don’t get too excited. It was only five bucks.

Really?! I look to my glass, swirling it and taking another small sip, the flavor even more soothing this time, but then I remember how the boys were in my room along with the wine Bastian claims he purchased.

Me: what am I missing?

Rather than a text, my phone rings with an incoming video call. I accept, toes folding in the water when his rugged face comes into view, black hair falling in his eyes as he looks down into the camera.

His smirk is slow, and he lifts his eyes over the screen a moment as he shuffles away from something. “Rich Girl.”


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