Wicked Knight Read Online Sawyer Bennett (Wicked Horse Vegas #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Wicked Horse Vegas Series by Sawyer Bennett
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 76541 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
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“What are you two talking about?” she asks while narrowing a fake suspicious look at us.

I shrug, but Hope gives us up. “Asher is going to take us to Disneyland next weekend.”

“What?” Hannah gasps, shooting me a look of disbelief laced with censure.

I decide to own it. It will get me in faster with Hope anyway. “Quick weekend trip. On me. It will be fun.”

Hannah purses her lips, shaking her head at me in mock disapproval for not discussing it with her first. Then she turns to her daughter. “I suppose we could go if your dad will agree to it.”

“Yay,” Hope screeches. To my surprise, she throws her arms around my waist and gives me a quick hug. My hand drops and awkwardly pats her on the head.

“Okay, come on, bug,” Hannah says to her daughter, holding her hand out. “Let’s get you into your jammies. I have your bed made, and it’s time to get to sleep. Say goodnight to Asher.”

Hope tips her head back and grins at me. “Goodnight, Asher.”

“Goodnight, Hope,” I murmur back as she runs to join her mom, feeling like I’m on a good path right now with her. So what if I bought my way there.

“Be back in a little bit,” Hannah says as she starts leading Hope away. Then she looks over her shoulder and gives a pointed nod to the couch. “Meet you there.”

My mouth curves into an evil smile, and I wonder what things I can do to her that would not be a danger to waking Hope up.

I’m determined to finish the kitchen before Hannah returns, and there’s only four boxes left. I dig in, removing tape and paper around breakable objects. I make decisions on where her cutlery should be stored and which cabinets to place all the plates and bowls. If she doesn’t like it, I’ll move it later.

I make it to the last box, which is smaller than the other ones and a lot lighter. It says in black sharpie on the front, “Odds and Ends – Kitchen”.

Peeling the packing tape off, I open the flaps. It’s a hodgepodge of stuff that Hannah apparently threw in there that belonged in the kitchen but weren’t big enough or breakable enough to be wrapped.

I start pulling stuff out, putting everything where I think appropriate. A set of screwdrivers, a measuring tape, a small plastic spoon holder, a set of dish towels, a cork screw, birthday candles, matches, toothpicks, and tons of magnets that go on the fridge. At the bottom of the box, there’s a piece of paper folded in half that I imagine she’d had stuck to her fridge with a magnet.

Without thought, I flip it over and read it.

It’s an appointment reminder for Hannah from Las Vegas Hematology and Oncology set for week after next. I stare at it a moment before I grab a magnet and stick it to the fridge. I continue to stare at it with an almost dispassionate eye, refusing to believe Hannah could be sick in any way.

“Okay… she’s asleep. Went right down, tired little monkey.”

I glance over my shoulder at Hannah as she comes into the kitchen. She grins and slides up to me, putting her arms around my waist from behind. Resting her chin on my shoulder, she teases, “Want to make out?”

It’s the furthest thing from my mind right now. I point at the appointment reminder I just put on the fridge. “Why do you have that appointment?”

Hannah steps around me with a frown to see the paper. She smiles, as if there’s not a care in the world. “It’s just a routine follow-up. Nothing big.”

“Follow-up for what?” I ask, my voice clipped and filled with tension. I can’t quite explain the feeling of dread inside of me, but it’s starting to overwhelm me.

The smile drops off Hannah’s face when she realizes I’m upset. She softens her tone, as if it will ease the weight of her news. “I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma three years ago. It was the earliest stage and very treatable.”

My teeth involuntarily grind together. It’s a visible sign of upset to Hannah so she tries to soothe me. “I’m completely fine now. My prognosis is excellent. I feel the best I’ve ever felt.”

“Except your immune system is a little shot,” I accuse.

Brow furrowing, she’s hesitant in her response. “Yes. I told you that.”

“But you didn’t tell me why, did you Hannah?” I clip out. “How come you never told me this?”

“It didn’t come up,” she says defensively.

“It’s cancer for God’s sake,” I snap. “It should have been brought up. By you.”

Hannah flushes red. Narrowing her eyes, she steps into me, speaking in a low, cold tone. “Listen, Asher. For four weeks, all we did was fuck and I cleaned your house. I was your paid whore. You took me on our first date last week, and we talked for three hours. I’m sorry, but that’s just not enough time to cover my entire life. It never came up. I didn’t think it was important enough to bring up as I’m in remission and I’m doing fine. I don’t get why this is such a big problem.”


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