Bradford Bastard (Bradford Bastard 1) - Page 70

I shake my head. “Nah, it’s not possible. Brielle was at the track last night. I was with her last night.”

Jax lays back and Riley gets into position, spotting him as he lifts the heavy weight off the rack. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. She didn’t get to the track till late, you know that. You fucking saw her drive in. Besides, how well do you really know this girl? She’s hot as fuck and she’s feisty with a smart mouth that gets me fucking hard, but apart from that, you don’t know shit about her. What if she’s just trying to get close to you for him?”

“You’re wrong,” I tell him, holding up the phone and showing him the photo of Bri standing on a coffee table during some cheap party with Colby Jacobs standing right in front of her. His hand is reaching out to her and she’s bending down to him, a dazzling smile on her face as she looks at the dude like she’s never been so fucking in love. There’s no way. This chick … no. I don’t believe it, I can’t. If she’s his girl, then she was with him during the time he attacked Addie six weeks ago, and I can’t fucking live with that.

“Suit yourself, man,” Riley says. “You asked me to find out everything there is to know about the fucker, and I did that. I’m just sharing the facts, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“FUCK!”

Anger boils through my veins as I pace through the twins’ home gym. I can’t stay here. I need to get to the bottom of this. I was with her last night. I fucking kissed her, tasted her, and now my best friend wants to tell me that she belongs to some other man—the same fucking man who hurt my sister. Get fucked. This isn’t happening.

Unable to control the vile thoughts infecting my mind, I fly out the door, and before I’m able to even focus on what I’m doing, I’m already tearing down the road, the wind slamming against my chest as I push my motorcycle to its fucking limits.

After pulling into my driveway, I tear my helmet off my head and hang it from the handlebar before cutting across the front lawn onto Channing’s property. I don’t bother jumping the fence and slipping in through the kitchen window that’s always left open, instead, I go straight for the front door.

Brielle’s car is out front, and I don’t give two shits about anyone else who might be inside the house. Hell, I don’t care if they demand I fuck right off. They can say whatever they want, but nothing is stopping me from going upstairs and getting answers out of that little cock tease who somehow has me by the fucking balls.

The door is unlocked, and I push it open, not bothering to close the fucker behind me. Conversation comes from deeper in the house, and I can only assume that’s Bri’s gold-digging mother, but seeing as though she’s distracted with whatever the fuck she’s doing, I don’t bother making my presence known. Instead, I turn for the stairs and skip up them two at a time.

Her bedroom door is locked, and it’s only slowing me down. I back track a few steps to the linen closet down the hall and close the door behind me, reaching up to the crawl space in the ceiling and pushing gently against the door until it slides away. Gripping the edge, I pull myself up into the ceiling, feeling like a fucking creeper, just like every other time I’ve done this. Crouching as I move through the dark attic space, I take the two steps toward the familiar opening and move the piece of ceiling out of the way before dropping straight down into the middle of Brielle’s closet.

I hear the shower running through the adjoining wall and I push my way out through the closet, not hesitating before throwing the bathroom door open and forcing my way inside.

Brielle shrieks and I’m not going to lie, my gaze drops to her naked body, taking in her subtle curves, her perfect full tits and toned waist. “THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” she yells, throwing her hands up to cover her body, her eyes wide with shock.

Clenching my jaw, I launch her towel through the shower door, and she scrambles to wrap it around her body. “You think because you made me come on your fingers that you can just storm your way in here like some kind of barbarian? Like you’re suddenly entitled to my body? What the actual fuck, Tanner? Get the hell out of here.”

I slam my phone up against the glass of the shower, showing her the image from the party last night, rage burning through my stare. I don’t even care to spare a second glance at her dripping body. “Are you Colby’s girlfriend?”

Tags: Sheridan Anne Bradford Bastard Erotic
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