Page 103 of When We Break

Riley follows me into the kitchen and indicates he wants to go out, so I open the door for him, and he bounds out to do his thing. Skyla prefers her water with lemon in it, so by the time I fill a glass with ice, water, and the fresh lemon, Riley’s ready to come back in.

“A bottle of water would have been just fine,” she says when I pass her the glass, and Riley curls up on his bed.

“You like it this way, so you’ll have it this way.” I catch her chin in my fingers and kiss her sweet lips. “Ready to read?”

“Hmm.” She wakes up the device and passes it to me, which makes my lips curl up in a smile. Although we typically take turns reading, she prefers it when I read to her. We started a book last night about a motorcycle club president and a girl who just moved back to her hometown after being dumped by her stupid boyfriend.

Mafia to motorcycle clubs. Who knew this would be my life?

It’s not long before said president has the girl alone, in his bedroom, and up against the wall.

I glance down, and Skyla has that lower lip trapped in her teeth. Her hand squeezes my bicep, and I decide to have a little fun.

“Here, Irish. Your turn to read.”

My girl frowns up at me. “You’re tired already?”

“Not tired.” I shake my head and insist she take the device. “Just keep reading.”

“If you have to go to the bathroom, I can wait?—”

I cut her off with my mouth on hers. “Just read, baby.”

She shrugs, skims the page, then picks up where I left off as I kneel on the floor between her legs. I tuck my fingers in the waistband of her leggings and tug them down her hips, legs, and then off completely, tossing them aside along with her panties. Skyla gasps, watching me.

“Read.” My voice is hard, and her pupils blow wide at the command, but she keeps watching me, so I push up and frame her face in my hands, kiss her hard, and pull back. “Read to me, gorgeous. Don’t stop. If you stop reading, you don’t get to come.”

“Beckett.”

“No, I think his name is Wolf.” I smirk and kiss her neck before I make my way back south. “Do it.”

She licks her lips, clears her throat, and starts to read again while I get to work.

“My gods, he just quotedThe Great Gatsbyto her,” Skyla says, then sighs when I kiss the inside of her thigh. “Beck?—”

“Nope. I have this handled. You read.”

The man in the book has the woman by the throat, and it makes Skyla’s voice turn breathy. It has to be that because I don’t have a finger on her yet.

So my hand drifts up her leg, up her torso over her shirt, and I loosely hold on to her throat, and her words stumble to a halt.

“You like that, baby?”

“In theory.” She licks her lips, not looking away from the book. “But I like it better when you pull my hair.”

Fuck me.

“That’s my girl.”

She clears her throat and keeps reading, and I slide the tip of my finger through her already wet slit, making her stammer.

But she doesn’t stop.

And I reward her with a light lick over her clit.

“Oh, feck,” she whispers.

“Is that in the book?”

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