Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“What are you reading?” I ask the man, gesturing to his book.
Another smile. Maybe this is working. I feel bad. It’s unfair to this random stranger, making him think he has a chance. Nobody has a chance with me unless they’re called Kai.
“The Great Gatsby,” he says. “I’ve read it three times already. I return to it every few years.”
“I’m ashamed. I’ve never read it.”
“What?” the man laughs. “If you like literature, you have to try it.”
I lean against the desk. “Is it a love story?”
“Sort of…” The man stares at me. Behind me, I feel Kai take a step forward. I hear the floorboards creak. It’s like he’s getting ready for violence. “But it’s more a tragedy and, in my opinion, a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
“Love can be dangerous. It can turn to obsession way too easily.”
Oh, universe, come on. It’s like fate or some other force planted this man in our lives to give me a wake-up call. “It sounds like a good read—”
Kai places his wallet on the desk. Or perhaps places is an understatement. He slams it down and then leans over the man. He’s not trying to intimidate him—I don’t think so, at least—but he’s just so gruff, serious, and intense. The man flinches slightly.
“Two rooms,” he says. “Adjoining.”
A shiver moves over my body. Adjoining, meaning there will only be a door between us. It would be so easy for him to open it, sneak into my bedroom, move his hands over my body, and…
“Uh…” The man swallows. “Sure.”
As the man types into his computer, Kai rolls his shoulders. He seems restless like he wants to ride or fight. When the man gives Kai the price, Kai puts twice as much down on the desk. Maybe he feels bad for making the man flinch.
“Keep the change,” he says. “Consider it a tip. Come on, Kay.”
His gruff, commanding tone leaves me with little choice. He strides from the office, pushing the door open so hard it’s a miracle it doesn’t swing right off the hinges. In the parking lot, he turns to me and glares down.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He opens his mouth. His eyes are as wild as they were after he howled at Dad’s grave. He raises his hands like he’s going to grab me. I really think this is the moment he’s going to wrap his arms around me, pull me close against him, and push hard so I can feel his manhood, his need.
Instead, he says, “Here you go.” He hands me the keys.
I take them, our hands touching, heat and lust sparking between us, or maybe just from me—a one-sided surge of lust. He’s not jealous and doesn’t care if I flirt with a man right in front of him. He’s just tired and wants to get some rest.
CHAPTER SIX
Kai
I sit at the window of my motel room, my gun in pieces on the table in front of me. Cleaning it brings me peace. If anything goes down, I’ve got a spare in my bag. Luckily, I didn’t have a gun drawn as we booked the rooms. When I saw Kay talking with that man, I almost lost it. I almost went full Titan. I have to remember that, as far as she’s concerned, as far as Ryan is concerned, as far as the world is concerned, she’s nothing to me. She can talk to and flirt with anybody she damn well pleases.
I can’t hear Kay in the adjoining room, but I know she’s there. I wonder if she’s in the shower, which makes my body hard—not just my manhood, but all of me. My muscles swell as if getting ready for what I will do. The passion I’m going to claim.
Was she jealous in the diner? I was pissed, honestly. The waitress probably earns more tips by being just a little flirtatious. I get that, but I hated that Kay thought I was attracted to the waitress or anybody who wasn’t her.
The smell of the oil and the gunmetal… I’ll focus on that, but I can’t stop thinking about the passion in Kay’s expression. Or the beautiful flush spreading over her cheeks when she ordered her pancakes. She hesitated as if she was ashamed of herself with her curvy, perfect body. She’ll need her appetite if she’s going to carry my children.
I place the rag down, watching somebody stroll over to my Harley. He’s a tall, built man, taller and more muscular than me. He’s wearing a vest that shows off frankly insane arms, veins bulging as if he’s dehydrated himself for hours. Maybe he’s on roids. Or perhaps he’s used to his muscles being enough to intimidate people.
I grab my cut and leave my gun. The last thing I need is a shootout in a motel parking lot. As I get closer, I see the man’s probably a few years younger than me. His round, puffy face makes me think of roids again. His eyes are dark and beady, set above swollen cheeks, his hair blond and combed back into a ponytail. When the man looks up and sees me coming, he steps closer to my bike, a grin spreading across his face.