Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Wren let out a low whistle, dropping to a crouch to examine the engine. Her dress rode up her thigh, revealing more of the knife strapped there. "You weren't bullshitting about her being a beauty. This is gorgeous work."
I blinked, surprised at her immediate recognition. "You know bikes?"
"Grew up around them." Her fingers traced the custom exhaust with appreciation. "Your work?"
I nodded, genuine pride mixing with my operational awareness. "I rebuilt the entire bike the way I wanted it. It’s fast, powerful, and mean on the road." I reached for her hand, pulling her close to me so I could wrap my arm around her slender waist. I wanted to drop my hand and squeeze her ass, but figured that was a step too far. Besides, I didn’t want anyone seeing what I did with Wren. No man but me would ever see the look of utter bliss on her face as she came but me. And I knew I could get that look on her face because I’d keep at it until I learned how to get her there. "You still want to get out of here?"
"Where we headed?" she asked, watching my hands as I unlocked the saddlebag to grab my helmet. I kept my body angled to block her view of the Copperheads vest nestled at the bottom.
"My place is about fifteen minutes out. Not much, but it's private." I handed her the helmet. "Unless you had somewhere else in mind."
"Your place works." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m over there. I can follow.”
“Fair enough.” I stifled the urge to tell her to be careful. Even though I knew she was a capable rider, I wanted the feel of her at my back as I blazed a trail down the highway, but not only because I was a possessive bastard. I wanted to know she was as safe as I could make her. And the caveman in me believed I was the better rider even though I was pretty sure it would be a toss up between us.
"But fair warning, if your apartment's as meticulously clean as your bike, I might start asking for house keeping advice instead of whatever else you have in mind."
I laughed, surprising myself with how genuine it sounded. "I promise to be distracting."
I swung my leg over the bike, settling into the seat and firing up the engine and waited for her to do the same. I’d parked close to her deliberately. I’d questioned the move, but now I knew I’d planned on leaving with her all along. I just refused to admit it to myself until now.
I pulled out of the lot, keeping an eye on her as she followed before pulling up beside me. I grinned at her then put my focus on the road ahead stretching over the land dark and promising. I twisted the throttle, picking up speed and Wren followed suit. The full moon shone down on the road ahead, turning the pavement into a glittering silver ribbon that mirrored her bright, beautiful smile.
Chapter Three
Rocky
Ipulled into the cracked asphalt parking lot behind my apartment building, the rumble of Wren's bike right behind me. The moon cast long shadows across the concrete as I cut the engine, watching her swing her leg over her seat with a grace that made my mouth go dry. Purple hair wild from the ride, that dress hiked up high on her thighs revealing the knife still strapped there, she looked like every fantasy I’d ever had and a few I never knew about until tonight.
"Nice neighborhood," she said, glancing around at the run-down complex with a smirk that suggested she'd seen worse but not by much.
"It's temporary," I replied, which wasn't a lie. Everything in my life was temporary. The apartment, the job. All of it would disappear once I finished this job for Vittorio. I reached for her hand, surprised at how naturally my fingers laced with hers. She looked up at me with a raised eyebrow but I ignored her, figuring she could tug away if she wanted free. Then I led her inside the building.
The building was deceptively run down and dingy. The stairwell stank of stale cigarettes and cheap weed, fluorescent lights flickering overhead as we climbed. I felt her eyes on me, studying my back, probably wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
"Hope you're not expecting much," I said over my shoulder, fishing keys from my pocket as we reached the third-floor hallway. "Not exactly the Ritz."
"If I wanted luxury, I wouldn't be following a stranger home from a biker bar," she countered, her voice carrying a lightness that didn't match the calculation in her eyes.
The lock clicked open and I pushed the door, flicking on the dim lamp by the entrance. My apartment was sparse by design. A worn couch, coffee table with bike magazines, TV mounted on the wall. Kitchen barely visible around the corner. Mattress on a simple frame visible through the open bedroom door. Nothing personal. Nothing that couldn't be abandoned in five minutes flat if things went sideways. Unlike the rest of the building, my apartment had no clutter and I kept everything spotlessly clean. I also had three deadbolts and a metal door I’d installed the second I’d moved in.