Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 669(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
This need was something I hadn’t experienced in so long, and never quite like this.
Because it was different. This wasn’t safe. It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t a tender love that had slowly been fallen into.
It was reckless and rash.
My heart on the line and my building belief in this bad boy’s hands.
My arms were trembling twigs when I tightened them around his narrow waist, and I pressed my hands to his abdomen that was every bit as hard and strong as I had imagined.
“Hold onto me and keep your feet on the pegs. Don’t fight the flow, just follow my lead. Let me do the work and you follow me through it. That’s all you’ve got to do.” His hand clenched down on my bare thigh where the fabric of my dress had bunched.
I tried to bury the moan.
His voice was a gruff whisper in the wind. “That’s all you’ve gotta do, Eden. Follow me.”
Hugging him tighter, I was struck with the realization that I might follow him anywhere. I sent up a silent prayer that I would make it through this. That I wasn’t being foolish. That this wasn’t the worst mistake I’d ever made.
Climbing onto his bike as if that was what I’d been made to do. Formed and fashioned to mold to the shape of his gorgeous body.
Like we might become one.
Trent eased the motorcycle through the lot and took to the street. The engine rumbled and growled.
No question he was keeping it bridled. The slow pace he’d taken meant for me. The man trying to offer comfort when I’d never been so far out of my element.
Still, I held tight, completely vulnerable to the open road. The air was cold where it whipped across my face, across the bare flesh of my arms and legs, where it stirred the skirt of my dress and whipped my hair into disorder, but in it…in it I finally understood what so many were looking for.
Freedom.
A feeling of being unchained.
Alive.
Trent only made two turns before we were pulling into another bar.
Though this one was entirely different than the club we’d just left.
It was a small, old brick building with Milly’s Place painted on the exterior wall. It was the epitome of a dive. The parking lot out front was darkened save for a few dim lights and the neon beer lights that blinked from the blackened windows. It was long since passed last call, but there were still a long row of bikes parked out front in a symmetrical line and a few cars dotting the lot.
Nerves rattled through my senses, and I clung to him tighter as he eased his way through and swung his bike around. He used his feet to guide us back into a spot right at the front.
He killed the engine.
It suddenly felt too quiet. Only the sound of our hearts and the faint classic rock that seeped through the walls.
“What are we doing here?” I whispered, still clinging to his back, sure I couldn’t let go.
I didn’t want to.
He grumbled a sound, and the vibration of it rolled through my body. “I’m starving, and Milly makes the best after-hours breakfasts in the city.”
He shifted so he could give me his hand again, and he started to help me off. “Keep your legs away from any metal.”
I nodded warily, and I fumbled off the bike like a floundering fish. With the slightest smirk teasing at the corner of his decadent mouth, he kept hold of my hand as he swung off the bike and came to tower over me.
This dark, dark fortress that would swallow me whole.
He stared at me through the lapping night before he reached out and ran the pad of his thumb down the angle of my jaw.
So soft.
So right.
“We should go inside.”
My nod was jerky.
He tightened his hold on my hand and led me through the double swinging doors. Just like at Absolution, everyone took note of him, dipped their heads as he walked through as if they were kneeling to a king.
It seemed wherever he went, people took note of him.
Compelled.
Fearful and intrigued.
There were only a few of the dingy booths taken, and Trent led us to one at the back. He helped me slide in one side before he slipped into the other.
A woman immediately showed at our table. Her face was weathered and worn, and her gray hair was tied back in a low ponytail. She wore a tight tank with a Harley on the chest, the tattoos on her skin faded with time.
She looked like she’d faced a harder life than anyone should have to. Or maybe she’d just lived it to its fullest.
“Well, if it isn’t The Law,” she said with pure affection.
The Law?
I had to hide a smile behind the menu she set in front of me.