Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
And it was low key run by an outlaw motorcycle club.
“Doesn’t holding hands damage your street cred?” I groused when trying to wrench my hand from Colby’s grip hadn’t worked.
Colby smirked at me. “Nothing damages street cred when you’re wearin’ a Sons of Templar cut, poppet.”
I rolled my eyes. “Cocky.”
Colby ignored this, pulling our intertwined hands up so he could kiss mine. “Plus, me walking down the street, managing to get Sariah Cardoso, of all people, to hold my hand is doing great fucking things for my street cred.”
Swoon.
“I’m not letting you hold my hand,” I protested. “You’re just not letting me go. That doesn’t count.”
Colby chuffed. “You didn’t want to hold my hand, you wouldn’t be holdin’ my fucking hand.” Damn, the prick knew me so fucking well.
Yes, he’d held tighter when I’d tried to remove his grip from my hand, but I could’ve wrenched my own away. If I’d really wanted to.
Which I didn’t.
I pursed my lips, tiling my head and ignoring him like a petulant child the rest of the walk to the restaurant.
But we still walked in holding hands.
Hence the women deciding that we were a couple.
And I couldn’t say we weren’t.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“I’m movin’ in,” Colby announced.
That had come out of nowhere. For me, at least. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, painting my nails and enjoying a glass of whisky.
He was supposed to be watching the game. But when my head snapped up and I saw his eyes on me, I got the impression he’d been watching me for a while. His expression was serious, intense, full of ownership.
I bristled. “You are not moving in.”
“Babe, I sleep here every night. My shit is in the closet.” He scratched his neck. “Well, I ‘ve attempted to put my shit in the closet.”
I scowled at him. When I moved back in, I’d been faced with all of the clothes I wore pre-warehouse. They were colorful, decadent, exquisite. And they were so not me anymore.
Now, getting tortured by a serial killer hadn’t rendered me completely unhinged… I kept a lot of it. Like the vintage Chanel. And the YSL.
The rest I donated to the local Goodwill. Well, after the club ladies came and got their fill. Though they were all variations of ‘biker babe,’ they were also women who loved clothes. Designer clothes held a certain allure to every woman.
I could’ve made a hefty buck if I resold what remained on resale sites—despite my wild life, I took great care of my clothes—but that seemed like a lot of effort, and I was one lazy bitch.
Anyway, I got rid of a bunch, and then I bought a bunch. A whole bunch. Shipped from Saks, Bloomingdales, Net-a-Porter. My closet was refreshed and then some. Most of it was shades of black and red. A total fucking cliché, and I hated how pathetic that was, but the bright colors, any kind of flowery print, made me want to gag a little.
“Precisely why you cannot move in. I will not sacrifice the closet space.”
He didn’t look like he thought my argument was sound. Actually, he looked … amused? “Then we’ll find another place with a bigger closet. I’ll build you a closet.”
My stomach fluttered with the memory of a promise he’d made about that.
I put down the nail polish and picked up my drink. “You are not serious.”
“When have I ever given you the impression that I’ve been anything but serious about you?”
He had me there. I held my glass harder.
“Fight me if you want,” he shrugged. “I’m used to it, and I’ll enjoy fuckin’ you in our bed after I’ve won.”
Our bed.
The two words settled inside of me. The prospect of a life not unlike Violet’s in the desert. Minus some significant things, of course.
A little girl with a pink dress and cowboy boots.
“You cocky prick,” my cheeks heated in fury. “You can’t keep making these decisions like my submission is a foregone conclusion.”
Colby didn’t answer, instead, he moved forward on the sofa, snatched my glass away, put it on the coffee table and had my panties off in a flash.
Which was kind of easy to do since I had been painting my nails in a camisole and panties.
I let out a gasp as he hooked my knees over his shoulders and positioned his mouth between my legs.
“Isn’t your submission a forgone conclusion?” His velvet breath was warm on my pussy.
I blew my hair from my face and scowled at him. “You can’t just get your way by eating my pussy.” I was trying to go for pissed off and powerful, but I sounded breathy and defenseless.
Colby leaned forward and licked the seam of my pussy, finishing at my clit. My entire body fought the pleasure that urged me to submit.
He had a glint in his eye when he looked up at me. “Can’t I?”