Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
I glance at Bea who's looking at me with wide-eyed encouragement and nodding like a bobble head doll.
“Viking!” A rough, gravelly voice breaks in before I figure out what to say, and then a beast of a man slaps a big hand on the blond's shoulder and pushes past him. The new guy is huge, like monster huge, with a thick, wild beard. The blond guy has his long hair tied back, but this new one lets his glorious, dark brown mane flow free. His T-shirt is stretched around his muscular torso, and his thick arms are covered with tattoos. He's not as cut as the blond, but if I ever need anyone to lift a car off me to save my life, I know exactly who I'd call.
Our eyes meet, and his hazel orbs darken. Maybe it’s the hormones in the air, but I swear his pupils dilate as he looks me up and down hungrily. “Well, aren’t you the sexiest fucking cupcake I've seen all night? I'm Bear.”
Bear. Of course he is.
And if Viking’s the blond, that suits him, too. The way his gaze slides down into my cleavage before coming back up to my face is like being ravaged and pillaged already.
“I—” I don't get very far before a third guy pushes himself in front, just in case these two aren't enough.
“Fresh meat!” he says with a boyish grin. He's lanky and muscular, not broad like the first two, but that doesn't mean I'd mess with him any more than the big guys behind him. His hair's cropped short, and a denim vest hangs open to reveal a smooth, colorfully tattooed chest all the way down to his low slung jeans, where just a hint of kinky fuzz peeks out. A quick tug is all it would take for him to be right out in the open for all of us to see. I force my gaze up to his face, which is sporting a couple of days' worth of scruff. “I know what you’re thinking. Viking and Bear might be jumbo sized, but don’t worry, babe, I've got my own talents.” He sticks out his tongue and touches the tip to his chin. “You can call me Snark.”
Eeep!
Imagination running wild, I take a step backwards and smack right into a chest that might as well be a brick wall. Startled, I jump back the other way and spin around.
The wall is a man with eyes so dark they’re nearly black, and he watches me intently while running a hand through his short hair. It pops back up into little spikes. A dense five o'clock shadow darkens his square cut jaw, the white streak of a scar slices through his left brow, and his cheekbones could cut glass. There's a stud piercing just below his full lower lip. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with its sleeves torn off, and his sculpted arms are wrapped in dark tattoos. Only one stands out in a splash of vivid color, a gorgeously detailed raptor in flight, shedding chains as it flies away, and leaving behind two more like it, that look dead. His sensuous mouth doesn’t have even the semblance of a smile, but the way he looks at me, it's like his whole universe just shrank down to include me, and only me. “Hawk,” he says simply.
I'm surrounded.
From over Hawk and Snark’s shoulders, I spot Bea’s hands in the air giving me two thumbs up. The biker with the bandanna from the front gate is pushing his way through the crowd in her direction. He must've traded his guard shift or something. He sends me a knowing wink and whisks away my friend.
Leaving me with the four scary sexy guys surrounding me. Now what? Am I supposed to choose?
“Um, hi… I'm Alessa.”
Bear puts his hands on my shoulders and pulls me back against him. Even through his denim vest, his heat warms me. I would completely disappear under this guy, he's so big. I can just imagine the headline. Nineteen-year-old woman suffocated to death while monster biker fucks her silly. What a way to go, though.
His massive torso rumbles against my back as he speaks. “My room has the biggest bed.”
Is that… Is he trying to convince me? Or scare the others off?
Hawk and Snark nod.
“Works for me. What do you think, hot stuff? Think you can handle it?” Viking asks
Wait, what?
“Handle what?” My eyes flit from Viking, to Bear, to Snark, to Hawk. I probably look like a deer in headlights, or a retail worker on Black Friday about to open the doors.
“You are new here,” Viking says with a laugh. It makes his tattoos dance. “Handle us, flicka. We're a team. And we love to fucking share.”
“And share the fucking. Of you, specifically,” adds Snark. He reaches out, trailing his fingers down the side of my neck and nudging my blouse more open. My instinct is to pull it together again, but I don't.