Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I pull up my hair into a messy bun as I stare at him. He stands with his head down, his incredible back on display. And when I say incredible, he’s perfect. The muscles on his broad back flex as he smokes. This man is nothing short of perfect, and no matter what I feel later, I won’t deny that.
I’ve always seen his arm tattoos, but never in my dreams did I think he had the Disciples club logo splayed across his back. I watch as he inhales, the tip of his cigarette turning bright red as he takes a huge drag. Smoke circles around him and drifts to me as I try one more time to… I don’t know what.
“David?” I hate my raspy voice. My ex said it was sexy until I broke up with him. After that, he said it made him want to punch a wall.
He flicks the cigarette, his muscles flexing as he stubs it out with his shoe and picks it up.
“Charlie… I don’t ever lose control and fuck without protection—”
Can this get any more horrible? I feel like putting my hands over his mouth or my ears.
“Just stop, David. You didn’t even come inside me.” My voice sounds bitter.
His eyes bore into me. “You can’t be that naïve.”
He looks around the dark parking lot like it can somehow help him rewind time and give us a chance to make better decisions.
He opens his mouth to speak and I can’t hear anymore. I’m done. “I’m on the pill and clean. What about you?”
I’m being a total bitch. For a split second, there’s a flash of what looks like real pain and regret and I’m ensnared. He’s captured a piece of me that I can never take back.
And I hate that. It gives me a sense of helplessness as though this feeling I have for him is beyond my control. I despise him. My humiliation is complete and all I want to do is run away. Christ, I probably have the clap. He must see it all play out on my face.
Nodding, he opens the car door. “Stay away, Beautiful. I’m damaged,” he says in a low voice.
My face burns with shame for both of us.
Then he’s gone, and I’m left standing alone in the diner parking lot.
DAVID
“Wake the fuck up.”
Before I can react, my black leather vest is in my face. For a second, I leave it there. I’ve missed its smell. When I left, I did something disrespectful: I turned in my cut.
“Who said you can crash here? You haven’t been voted in.” Blade towers over me with a snarl on his face. I grab the vest and sit up, leaning my elbows on my knees.
As I try to get my bearings, a baby giggles and I glance up.
Not only is my cousin staring at me, so is the beautiful girl with the legs that don’t end. Her big blue eyes assess me with such worldly knowledge I wonder about her past. She shifts her hip, transferring the baby she holds. He grabs her hair.
“Come on. No pulling Mommy’s hair, James Dean.”
My breath stutters like someone’s gut punched me. Agony that I thought was under control boils over like hot water on a stove. I’m ashamed to admit that I can’t stand to look at Blade’s blond-haired boy. He looks so much like my Tabatha. It’s as if every time I see him a knife twists into my heart.
“Take it easy, David.” My eyes shift over to Blade who is not glaring yet looks concerned. Which makes me close my eyes and pull my shit together.
“I’m fine.” The smell of coffee draws my attention to Amy who steps into the room carrying a mug.
“David.” She nods and hands it to me. “Welcome home.”
Puffing out some air, I focus on her. “Thank you. You look amazing by the way.”
I’m not lying. She looks about the same as she did ten years ago. Leaning forward, I let her hug me. Bikers are starting to wake up and shuffle inside, some drinking coffee, others already drinking from a bottle or a can.
She lets go and marches over to Blade’s kid. “You want me to take him?” Her whole voice softens.
I grind my teeth and drink my coffee, barely tasting it as I hear the baby’s mother say, “Would you?”
“Are you kidding? Come to Auntie Amy.” She holds out her hands and the miniature Jason lunges for her.
“Ameee.” His fat, rosy cheeks puff out as he smiles. She positions him on her hip and walks toward the kitchen. I try to ignore him, her, anything that makes me feel. My eyes take in the room. Clearly the Disciples have been doing well. The game room is clean with putty-colored walls, and arcade games are lined up on the side wall.