Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63967 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“Did you make him apologize?”
A slow smile spreads across his face, and I feel that smile working its way deep into my chest and my core.
“Damn right, I did. But I also broke his fucking arm and busted a few ribs. The prosecutor called it aggravated assault and hit me with a felony charge.”
“Was it worth it?”
“Yes, because he’ll think twice about putting his hands on my sister again. No, because I lost a little over two years of my life that I can’t get back.” He leans back, studying my expression carefully. “I met Dix on the inside, and he told me all about his MC. I thought it might be a good fit for me, being as I like to ride.”
I tried to imagine Tank as a lost soul, not knowing what to do when he regained his freedom, but he’s so strong and tough it’s hard to imagine him as anything close to vulnerable. “So you didn’t have a lifelong desire to be a biker?”
He laughs. “Not at all. I got my motorcycle license when I was in boot camp.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head. “You’re in the military?”
“I was. Navy SEAL.”
Holy. Shit. “Damn. That explains the physique.” The man is big with broad shoulders, a wide chest that tapers down to a narrow waist attached to powerful legs that carry him with purpose.
“Admiring the physique, Nurse Sophie?” His brows wiggle, tugging a laugh out of me.
“Hard to miss it,” I admit without a hint of shame. “Not many men out there like you.”
“But you like what you see?” The heat in his gaze confirms the attraction that’s been humming between us.
I lick my lips and nod. “You’re very easy on the eyes,” I tell him because there’s no way in hell I’ll let him know that it’s his face I see when I break out my vibrator.
He laughs. “Easy on the eyes? Is that what women call it when looking at a man who soaks those lacy panties?”
“Silky, not lacy,” I correct him, and yes, the silky panties are getting wet.
He nods slowly. “Silky panties. Got it,” he answers. “You gonna let me see ’em?”
I snort at his bold question. “Maybe.”
Tank swallows hard, and my heart races. I like him. I genuinely like him, which may or may not be a bad idea, but every interaction with him makes me want to know more.
“You do know I can get you so wet, you’ll have to wring ’em out in that sink over there.”
Mission accomplished. “Just from looking at you?”
He rises from the chair and rounds the bed where Banger lies still and leans in close. Tank’s large hands grip the arms of my chair, his thick forearms almost too much to resist. He smirks at me knowingly, and when our eyes meet? That’s when I know this makeshift hospital room is about to get seriously hot.
Tank is gorgeous—light hair, eyes like crystal, gray with flecks of silver, chiseled jawline that could cut diamonds. He stands there so tall and handsome, and damn it, if my panties aren’t already wet with anticipation.
“How am I doing?” he asks gruffly. Embarrassed, I look down, but that’s a mistake because now all I can focus on are his muscular forearms and his crotch.
“Wow,” I breathe out before realizing how stupid I must sound.
“Wow?” he teases, one side of his mouth quirking up in a small smile. I lick my lips nervously. They’re probably dry from nerves, or maybe it’s because the temperature keeps rising between us.
His jaw clenches. “Sophie,” he growls through his clenched teeth as if it’s taking all his willpower not to touch me.
Touch me. Please. “Tank.”
His grip on the chair loosens, and he steps back. “Tell me something about yourself before I tear those fucking scrubs from your body to see just how wet that silk is between your thighs.”
I swallow and nod, searching for something to say before I do something stupid, like let a biker fuck me in the room with an unconscious patient. “I like to draw and paint sometimes,” I stammer. “Well, sketch, really. I’m not an artist or anything, though. I just do it for fun.”
He smiles but doesn’t put more space between us. “So you’re an artist? I am, too. A tattoo artist.” He places his finger under my chin and whispers, “I’d like to tattoo your cunt with my cock.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Hot with a dirty mouth, and he’s an artist?
My heart races and my face heats up as I try to think of something else to say before things get any further out of hand—anything that might keep me from tearing off his clothes right here and now.
“I…uhm…like to read too.” I smile sheepishly, my heart beating out of my chest.
CHAPTER TWO
Tank
The first thing I hear when I roll into the clinic is Sophie’s laugh. She’s got a full body laugh, the kind where you know she’s tossing her head back, her long dark hair tumbling down her back, exposing her sweet, kissable neck. It’s a real laugh, none of that fake, polite chuckle bullshit.