Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 105(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Chapter Seventeen
Langley
I don’t know how long Ride has been gone, but I find myself walking over to the massive bed pushed up against the wall. It’s far bigger than any I’ve ever seen, triple the size of my little twin mattress that lays on the dirty floor.
I reach out, smoothing my fingers over the soft black comforter. It smells like him. I can scent that spicy aroma as it filters up and surrounds me. I envision him lying here, his big body taking up most of the mattress. Has he had women in here before? Has he given them pleasure on this bed?
I shake my head and push those thoughts away. I don’t like them. And it’s also not my business. He’s extremely attractive, bigger than life, not to mention the president of an MC. Of course he’s fucked women, probably countless times in here.
I sit down on the edge of the bed, brace my hands on the mattress, and just hang my head, closing my eyes as I feel exhaustion settle in. I can’t remember the last time I felt like I was safe. And as I lift my head and look around at these four walls, knowing where I’m at, who brought me here, for the first time in… forever, I actually feel like nothing can touch me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have laid on the bed. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought my knees to my chest and pulled the comforter up so it covered me. Maybe I shouldn’t have done anything other than be on alert, ready for whatever Ride has in store for me.
But I’m just so damn tired.
He doesn’t have to be sweet or gentle to me, doesn’t have to give me anything. He can take, take, and take from me until there’s nothing left, and how can I stop him?
I can’t. I won’t. Maybe because it’s useless. Besides, I want him too. Part of me hates myself for wanting him the way I do, but it doesn’t change the truth. Just thinking about him, his hands on my body, his gruff words moving against my ear, has lust slamming into me hard and fast. I hate myself for how wet I get, how I feel my nipples harden every time I look at him. I’m so tiny compared to him, his muscles are so defined, his height so massive.
He’s like a giant, and I’m like a mouse.
And as I rest my head on his pillow, one he’s laid on countless times before, I can’t help but close my eyes and just exhale slowly. The heavy weight of sleep falls down on me, and I don’t want to fight it. I want to just let myself be free, to float away, just give myself this reprieve away from reality.
I want to dream about other things, things that make me smile, images of a different life, another world. But as I let myself drift off, it’s Ride who fills my mind.
I don’t know what wakes me or how long I’ve been sleeping, but I’m very aware I’m not alone. For a moment, my heart jerks in my chest and fear takes hold. I think I’m back at Einstein’s with his too thin body pressed against mine, his liquor-laced breath moving along my neck. I almost struggle, but then reality sets in and I remember I’m at Ride’s MC compound, that I’m in his room.
And as I let that sink in, I realize the body behind me is big and strong. He smells of wilderness and spice and everything that is all male.
It’s Ride.
I hear his even, deep breathing behind me, feel his hand on my hip, his palm big, his fingers long and strong as they hold me to him.
Is he asleep? The knowledge that he came back in the room and sleeps in the bed with me, holds me, warms me even though it shouldn’t. Because all I want to do is go back to sleep, feel him right behind me, know that everything is okay no matter what. But I don’t know that everything is or will be okay. I don’t know any of this, because my future is so uncertain right now.
I shift ever so slightly, hoping I don’t wake him. I look over my shoulder and see his eyes are closed, his face taking on this relaxed appearance. I wonder if he’s dreaming. Do men like him dream? Bad men, ones who do illegal things to survive?
I swallow and look down at his hand that rests on my waist. It’s so masculine. The very feel of it seems to heat me from the inside out, and I can see calluses. He does manual labor, and I wonder how those digits would feel moving over my naked body, how it would feel to have him tearing off my clothes because he’s so hungry for me.