Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Of fucking course she knew how to operate a bike. She could probably drive an eighteen-speed semi.
Hell, maybe even a tank.
When he snorted, she lifted her head. “Problem?”
“Nope. Just thinking about how much more of a badass you are than me.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “In regards to what?”
“Everything,” was the safest answer he could give before slipping his hand under her cut and using it to steer her toward the lone waitress behind the counter. He paused long enough to toss a twenty to their server before they headed out into the warm night.
The DAMC ladies had warned her before the run last Sunday but she had brushed it off as a joke, thinking they were screwing with her. That was, until she had a tiny orgasm later that afternoon on a long back stretch of road. Nothing Earth-shattering but enough for her to take notice.
The best part about it, no one else had a clue it happened.
Including Fletch.
But tonight with a full belly and after putting in a long day, she let the Harley’s vibrations overtake her and lull her into a deeply relaxed state.
When she sat across from Fletch at dinner, she’d been more than hungry for food. She was hungry for him.
Some of that was caused by the occasional glances she shot his way while he sat in the corner at Hawg Wild like a king expecting his subjects to come to him. His confidence, as well as his good looks, not only kept drawing her attention, but some of the other women in the bar, as well.
Nova was actually surprised he hadn’t been approached by any. But then, it had been their first night at the bar and maybe most of the regular patrons were wary about anyone new in their midst.
Some of the bikers hanging out near her at the pool tables had lobbed some hard-ball questions at her about the DAMC and Ghost. She had answered when she could, deflected when she couldn’t.
Of course, they had every right to be cautious since law enforcement had infiltrated MCs in the past. Because of that, it made sense for her and Fletch to return tomorrow night and every weekend after that until the bikers and their women got used to seeing their faces and stopped giving them the side-eye.
However, that didn’t mean Ghost and Kitten wouldn’t continue to be tested to make sure they were who their patches said they were. Nova would be more surprised if they didn’t.
But now, they were only about five minutes out from Shadow Valley Pawn.
It might be late, but her body was low-key humming. And, of course, her mind was spinning with possibilities and the question of whether it would be smart to knock boots with Fletch again.
She could let the Harley’s vibrations draw another orgasm from her or…
She could let the man driving it do that.
Nova was sure if she asked for his assistance, he wouldn’t say no.
To test that theory, she slipped her arms under his cut to encircle his waist in a tight hold. He turned his head, most likely in surprise since she’d been avoiding holding onto him on every other ride. If he said something, she didn’t hear it over the wind in her ears and the loud exhaust. Plus, she couldn’t see if his mouth moved since he wore a bandana over his lower face to avoid choking on suicidal bugs.
She probably shouldn’t be distracting him, but he was certainly distracting her, even if he didn’t mean to.
She wiggled closer until her pussy, throbbing due to the mix of vibrations and anticipation, was pressed against his ass.
He covered one of her hands planted on his gut with his own and nudged it lower, but not all the way to where she was sure he wanted it.
After giving her fingers a slight squeeze, he removed his hand and wrapped it around her left calf, giving that a much firmer squeeze. She took his action as a sign he was open to her touching him intimately. She did so by sliding her hand lower and finding how hard he was.
Had he been thinking about sex, too?
Of course he had. What man didn’t constantly think about sex? It seemed to be a part of their DNA, like leaving the lights on.
When he leaned back slightly, she curled her fingers around the hard line in his jeans, just as possessively as his grip on her calf. His erection was a clear indication he’d be up for the task of bringing her to orgasm. At least once. Hopefully twice. Maybe even three times. She would be a fool to place a limit on it.
Leaning into him, she pressed her lips against the back of his neck, causing him to jerk and the bike to wobble at the unexpected contact. She grinned at his reaction.