Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
He nods to acknowledge the direction and the bike slows.
All too soon, he’s pulling into the parking lot of the small brick building where I spend my days. He stops at the curb a few feet past the entrance, plants his feet on the ground, and shuts the bike down. The loss of the buzzing between my legs disorients me for a moment. Like a weirdo, I hug Dex one last time, then brace myself on his shoulder and reverse what I did to get on the bike.
Whoa. My legs quiver like I’ve punished them with a hundred squats. I stumble backward. Dex reaches for me, curling an arm around my waist to steady me.
“Thanks. My legs are like jelly.” I unstrap my helmet. “But I loved the ride.”
Unsure of what to do—give the helmet back or keep it and give it to Griff next time I see him—I tuck it under my arm.
“Any time you want, I’ll give you a ride,” he answers.
Not the kind of ride I’m thinking of.
As if he’s heard my unspoken desire, the smile slides off his face. He’s all business again. “What time are you done?”
“Usually five.” Damn, how am I going to get home? It’s not like Ubers or Lyfts are easy to find or cheap in my neck of the woods. I have a few people I’d feel comfortable asking to give me a ride but it doesn’t solve my problem of getting to work tomorrow and the next day. “Think my car might be ready by then?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. I’ll check in with Griff, and I’ll be here at five to pick you up.”
“Wait. You don’t have to do that.”
The shroud of seriousness that seemed to surround him at the cemetery disappears. A playful, almost flirty smile flickers over Dex’s mouth. “Nah, little firecracker. That’s not how it works.”
Why does my heart thump faster every time he calls me “firecracker?” “How what works?”
He fires up the bike, the loud rumble shaking the pavement and forcing me to lean in to hear his answer. “Biker code: I rescued you, so now you’re mine.”
CHAPTER THREE
Dex
Five o’clock.
I’ll be waiting at the curb for Emily.
Why am I stupidly looking forward to seeing her again?
And why the fuck did that now you’re mine comment have to spill out of my mouth? Way to scare the woman.
Must be from having her on the back of my bike. Girl tried her best to squeeze my insides out my ass, but damn, it felt good having her there. Other women have been in that seat since my wife died but not for long, and none ever felt so right.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I try to ignore the way my body tingles in all the places Emily touched me. And all the places I wanted her to touch me. Having her on the back of my bike was heaven and hell rolled into one. Like a masochist, I’ll be doing it again in about six hours.
And I can’t wait.
At the next stoplight, I flick the radio on and turn up the volume to drown out the memory of Emily’s voice in my head.
The music doesn’t work. Irritated with myself, I note Emily’s job isn’t that far from Crystal Ball.
What do you think you’re going to do? Stop by for lunch dates?
It’s too early to open the club. I could go in and start inventory before Willow’s shift, but it’ll be easier if she’s there to help. Before running into Emily, I’d planned to drop by Furious Fitness for a workout. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Wrath won’t be there to harass me into “one more rep” or hound me about the evils of processed sugar.
No such luck. My brother’s massive blue GMC pickup is in its usual spot. At least I’ll be able to razz his ass for taking his cage to work instead of riding. A black Ford’s parked next to Wrath’s monstrosity—Murphy’s old truck that Grinder’s been using since he got out of prison. Fucking hell. I’m not in the mood for one of the old man’s lectures today.
Inside, it’s quiet. Seems I missed peak workout time for all the local housewives. Good. I won’t have to deal with Wrath trying to set me up on a fucking date.
Wrath’s office door is closed. Maybe his wife paid him a visit. Trinity’s photography studio is right next door so she’s at the gym a lot.
I shove the locker room door open harder than I intended, almost smacking into Grinder. He drops his brush into an open can of white paint and scowls. Looks like he was trying to touch up the walls where the door handle often hits the drywall.
“What’s the hurry?” he grumbles. The irritated expression slides off his bearded face as he turns and realizes it’s me. “Morning, Dex.”