Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
A significant bulge tented the front of his jeans.
Brenna giggled. Instead of embarrassment, she felt elated at the thought of him wanting her so much he couldn’t hide the evidence. “Isn’t it going to be hard to ride with… that?” she asked as she waved a hand toward his erection.
“Yep. About as hard as it will be for you to ride in… that.”
“Fair enough.” Who knew where this bold seductress came from, but she sauntered over to the bike and threw a leg over the rear seat. As predicted, the skirt rode up so high her ass was basically on display, and Lock had a clear view of her tiny black panties.
“Jesus, I’m a fucking masochist.” Lock shook his head and climbed on the bike in front of her.
“Comfortable?” she asked in as innocent a voice as she could muster.
He grunted. “Fuck no. How’s the breeze back there?” he asked a second before he revved the engine as loud as possible, probably waking the entire neighborhood.
Brenna yelped and clutched at his cut. Laughter bubbled from deep in her stomach. This entire situation was bananas, and she was insane for having as much fun as she was.
The trip to the clubhouse was quicker than usual since the sun hadn’t risen and traffic was sparse. Brenna clung to his back and fought to ignore how delicious he smelled. It’d be easy to press her lips to the back of his neck to see if he tasted as good as he smelled.
But she needed to get her head in the game if she wanted to stay in control and calm when she encountered Oliver. So, instead of continuing to play with Lock, she rested her cheek on his back and breathed as they flew through the streets toward the clubhouse.
They arrived all too soon and only seconds before Jinx.
“Hot damn,” the big guy said as she walked through the parking lot. “You don’t fuck around.”
“Eyes off, you big oaf,” Lock grumbled as he smacked the back of Jinx’s head.
“Ow! What the fuck was that for? Jesus.” Jinx rubbed his head, but his smirk told them all they needed to know. He loved getting a rise out of Lock.
“How about we focus, boys?” Brenna asked.
“Oh, Lock is focusing, darlin’. He is focusing right on that juicy a—”
“Do I need to call Harper?” Lock raised an eyebrow.
Jinx frowned. “Why you gotta kill my fun?”
“Come on.” Lock placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her toward the clubhouse. The heat of his palm on her bare back had shivers dancing across her exposed skin. Spec, Tracker, and Ty were already in the clubhouse. Frost had been outside standing guard so he could alert them the moment Oliver came near.
Thankfully, no one else commented on her outfit, though she did get some sideways glances. Whatever. This was her armor. It made her feel strong and powerful, and it would drive Oliver insane. He’d always had something to say about women he felt dressed “slutty.” As though any woman gave two shits what he thought of them.
“We ready?” Spec asked.
“Hell yeah,” Jinx said as he rubbed his hands together. “Always ready to teach motherfuckers a lesson.”
“You good, Bren?”
Now that they were there, her confidence began to slip, replaced by a flurry of nerves in her stomach. “Yeah,” she answered with more conviction than she felt. “Let’s do this.”
A radio crackled before anyone could respond. Spec lifted a walkie-talkie off the bar. “Go, Frost.”
“Shithead incoming. I’ll follow him to the door and escort the bastard to the party.”
Brenna’s stomach bottomed out. Her palms began to sweat. The outfit that had felt like a shield only moments ago left her exposed and vulnerable.
“Hey.”
She turned her head toward Lock, who wore a solemn expression. “You got this. No doubt in my mind.” Then he winked.
How had he known she needed to hear those words? Could he read her that well already?
I have this.
“Thank you,” she whispered as the door opened, and Frost shoved Oliver into the clubhouse.
His eyes immediately landed on her, and she froze like a deer in headlights. Her ex looked like shit. His usually flawless suit was rumpled, his sandy hair jutted out in various directions, and the tan he worked so hard to maintain had faded to a dull gray. He wore dirty dress shoes and held a thick envelope in his left hand.
The missing money that had started it all.
Thank God she wasn’t required to speak first because her tongue lay heavy and limp in her mouth.
Spec didn’t have the same problem. “Ollie-boy, the guest of honor. Come on in.” He waved Oliver into the building.
“Uh, hey, Spec. Here you go. This is what I owe.” He held out the packet.
Straight to business.
Spec waved it away. “Nah, we’ll get to that. How about a drink first?”