Page 164 of Relentless

Why isn’t she right next to me with her hot little ass pressed against my dick?

It seems to take forever for my fingers to collide with hot, soft skin.

I groan, my need for her all-consuming.

I’ve never been with a woman before that I haven’t been able to get enough of. Previously, once I’ve shot my load, I’m ready to bail. Does that make me an asshole? Yeah, probably. Do I care? Absolutely fucking not. The chicks we pick up at the clubhouse or on the streets of Harrow Creek are whores. Plain and simple. They want something from us, just as much as we want something from them. All’s fair in love and war and all that.

But Alana. Fuck me. Every time I have her, it just gets better and better. And I don’t even need to get inside her pussy. Just one touch and I yearn for more. It doesn’t even need to be my dick she’s touching. Just holding her hand like a pussy does it.

I need her on a level I’ve never experienced before. Which is why I know I’m royally fucked when this all blows up in my face.

It’s going to. I have no doubt about that. There’s only one man under this roof that she really wants, and no matter how much fun we have, no matter how many times I get her off, she’s always going to turn to him.

If I were stronger, I might be able to take a step back, put some space between us and attempt to protect my heart. But I’m not strong. I’m fucking weak. Nothing but a slave to my cravings and my desires.

I’ve always been the same. To this point, I’ve been able to drag myself from the darkness—if not me then Reid’s done it for me. But I’m already terrified of what’s coming my way.

“Dove.” I groan, unable to think about the what-ifs when I know she’s here for the taking.

But when a voice fills the air around me, it’s not her soft, light one but a much darker, much angrier one.

“The fuck are you doing?” Mav snaps, throwing my arm back to my side of the bed.

My eyes fly open just before my hand crashes to my chest.

“Jeez, dude.”

“Why the fuck are you touching me?” he snaps, sitting up and dragging his hand down his face. “Fuck my head hurts.”

“Reid’s whiskey,” I muse. “And I wasn’t trying to touch you. I prefer someone less hairy and inky to snuggle with.”

At the mention of his wife, his head snaps up.

“Doll?” he calls out as if she’s about to pop up from under the bed. “I can’t believe she left me in bed with you,” he mumbles, throwing the covers back and pushing to his feet.

“Don’t even pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” I tease, nodding to his obviously tented boxers.

“Fuck off.” He grunts before slipping into the bathroom.

I wait for a beat, listening for voices, but when none fills the air, I roll on my back and throw my arm over my eyes, willing the pounding in my temples to lessen.

Water runs, the toilet flushes, and his feet shuffle against the floor.

At some point, I figure I must drift back off to sleep because I startle when something lands on my chest.

“Get dressed,” Mav demands.

Pulling my arm away, I find him glaring down at me.

“Are you always this much fun in the morning?” I mutter, pushing up on my palms.

“Where is Alana?”

“Downstairs drinking coffee probably,” I assure him, not feeling as concerned as he looks.

“And if she’s not?” he barks.

“I don’t know. But standing there snapping at me isn’t going to help.”

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