Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 110116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110116 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Rhys slows down and gives the girls a double honk, causing them to scream, “We love you!”
“Um. No. I would not have Rock God tattooed on my breasts. I don’t even like tattoos,” I grumble, gazing out the window at the gray morning. It looks cold, although the snow is white and pretty.
His mouth twitches. “Tell me something, Brat. This lying, does it just come naturally?”
My stomach flips, which bugs me because he’s not being nice, but the way he says Brat makes me instantly wet, even if he is an egomaniac.
Arching a brow at him, “You’re used to ‘yes’ people, Rhys. You’ve become a superstar. I told you I’m not impressed.” I reach for my bag to get my sunglasses. Sure, it’s gray outside and completely not needed, but whatever.
He turns and flashes me a grin, then throws back his head to laugh. My eyes hungrily travel down his neck, and I try to breathe. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him laugh, smile, or be interested in something.
“You’re right.” He nods and grins, gunning it onto the freeway.
I’m kind of surprised he owns it. Clearly all hope isn’t lost on him, because what makes Rhys Granger incredible is not that he’s beautiful; it’s that he’s got this charisma that makes people tattoo shit about him on their body.
He’s gifted, brilliant, and imposing.
No wonder people worship him. He makes everyone want to be near his greatness, listen to his gift of music, and get caught in his sphere.
My stomach flips, and I bite my bottom lip so I don’t scream I love you. Instead, I turn my head and pretend to watch whatever landscape is whirling by.
RHYS
Past – Twenty-seven years old
Minneapolis, Minnesota
I glance over at Gia as she sits looking out the window. I know she’s been hanging out with Nuke and my road crew, which I shouldn’t care about, but I do. Jealousy. It’s a new emotion for me.
“You’re too thin,” looking over at her. Her big eyes stare at me like I’ve insulted her, but it’s true. She looks thinner than even a few days ago. My need to feed and protect her kicks in.
Christ, what’s happening to me? I almost grin at my caveman thoughts. I need to feed my woman before we mate.
“You hungry?”
“I’m starving,” she snips and takes her hair down, running her fingers through her long curls as she recrosses her legs. It’s a simple thing; I’ve seen hundreds of women do the very same thing. But there’s something about Gia, the way she moves. She’s graceful and delicate, fierce and determined.
My hands tighten on the leather steering wheel. My chest almost burns for her, which aggravates me. And just like that, I hear music. It’s like she’s my muse.
I clear my throat. I’m acting like a fucking teenager excited to have a girl sit next to me, not a twenty-seven-year-old man who’s a goddamn rock star.
I should have let Misty blow me earlier. That was stupid on my part. Could’ve taken the edge off.
But my dick wants only one woman, and I’ve got her sitting next to me. Let’s be honest—I’m a depraved fuck, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I crave her. I’m ready to lock her in my room, eat her cunt, fuck her so hard she’s raw, then turn her around and claim her ass. Maybe tie her to my bed, feed her, and bathe her.
I take a breath. I need to get off the freeway and find a place to eat. I can’t believe I don’t trust myself to be alone with her.
But I don’t.
I make a U-turn and pull into a place called Bunny’s. It’s a big place and the parking lot is crowded. Fuck it, I’ll take my fans interrupting me rather than have to fight myself.
Yeah, I need to get out of here. This energy that is us is suffocating. Christ. I’m like a dog that smells a bitch in heat.
I turn off the engine and look over at her. She sits, arms crossed, completely shutting herself off and staring out the passenger side window. It pisses me off.
“Look, Brat—”
“Stop calling me that,” she hisses. She’s wild, untamed. Again, my cock responds.
Mine.
“God, Rhys.” She grabs her bag and throws open the door. “Do you even hear yourself?” She slams it before I can respond.
“Christ.” I twist around to the back seat for the beanie I was wearing this morning. I take a breath before I vault outside into the fucking Minnesota winter.
Gia’s already at the doors waiting as she jumps up and down, her hair falling around her shoulders like a waterfall of dark chocolate.
She’s beautiful and she knows it. That’s a dangerous combination. My cock throbs. I was hoping the frigid cold would make it calm down, but the thought of dominating her overrules even the weather.