Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
A slow smile touches her lips. “I bet you would.”
“Life is too short to play it safe. Sometimes you’ve got to just say fuck it.”
“And what would me saying fuck it look like tonight?” she asks.
I take a step closer. “You. Me. Exploring where those tequila shots take us.”
She leans an elbow against the bar. “You’re very self-assured.”
“Among other things.”
She shakes her head and laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear.
My gaze drops to the watch on her wrist.
It seems out of place. Because this firecracker is all biker girl with her wild hair, high boots and a tight dress that shows off an impressive rack. But the elegant piece of jewelry suits her.
I nod toward the watch. “Interesting piece of jewelry.”
“It was my mother’s,” she says.
“It’s beautiful.”
“She wore it all the time. My father gave it to her the day I was born.”
Her eyes get that distant look in them when someone recalls something that hurts. I know, because I’ve seen that distant gaze around here a lot.
Frowning, she lifts her lashes and brings her gaze back to me, along with a self-deprecating smile that’s all dimples and cute. “Well, that’s a story for another time.”
“Baby, I’ve got all the time in the world,” I say.
She cocks another eyebrow at me. “Baby?”
“I don’t know your name.”
She smiles and holds out her hand. “I’m Ella.”
I take her hand, but the moment her fingers curl around mine, a thrill zips through me, and for a long moment everything goes quiet, and all I’m aware of is the gentle touch of her skin on my skin.
The fuck?
I look at Ella, who clearly didn’t feel the same thing because she’s looking at me like I’m a complete fucking weirdo.
“And your name would be?” she asks.
I pull my hand away, not sure what the fuck just happened. But when I do, her watch slips off her wrist. Thinking quick, I grab it before it falls to the floor.
“Oh, the damn clasp keeps breaking,” she says.
I wrap it around her wrist and fix the clasp so it’s more secure. “You might want to get that fixed properly.”
“Thanks, I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost it.”
As I’m letting it go, I brush my fingers across her skin and feel another zap of whatever-the-fuck-that-is go through me.
“So are you going to stand there looking like you’ve just been struck by lightning or are you going to tell me your name?” she asks.
Jesus, what is wrong with me?
“Lars.”
She smiles, and it feels like sunshine spreading through my chest.
Jesus, get a grip.
“I like that name,” she says. “So Lars, before Cheezy spilled a bottle of beer over me, he pointed you out as the enforcer for the club.”
“I am.”
“So what does an enforcer do?”
“The stuff no one else has the stomach to do.” The words slip out before I can stop them. Because like I said, all my common sense left me the moment she slid her tongue along my skin. “But I don’t want to talk about me. Let’s talk about you.”
“You don’t want to talk about me. I’m boring.”
“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothing boring about you.”
“Okay, look, if you want your dick sucked tonight then you’re wasting your time with me.”
I lift my brow. “Your preoccupation with my dick getting sucked is quite concerning. Tell me more.”
She chuckles like she can’t help herself. “I’m not preoccupied with it.”
“You’ve mentioned it twice in….” I make a show of looking at her watch. “The last ten minutes. Be honest, is there something you want to tell me?”
“Other than you’re annoying, way too confident, and completely not my type, then no, there isn’t.” She holds up a finger. “No wait. There is something I need to know.”
“Anything.”
“Where’s the bathroom? I need to pee.”
CHAPTER 10
Ella
Houston, we have a problem.
And it comes in the form of a very muscular, very sexy biker with ice-blue eyes and a dangerous smile that is far more endearing than it should be.
I didn’t mean to get his attention.
And I admit I got a little carried away doing the tequila shots with him at the bar. Licking salt from his skin like I’d done it a million times before.
But Luca told me to blend in.
So I ran with it.
I wasn’t lying when I said I’d seen it in a movie once. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.
It’s not like I didn’t need the shot of liquid courage.
Because Lars is the kind of man who makes you look twice. And makes you wish you’d met under different circumstances.
He looks formidable. High cheekbones. Sharp jaw. All that ink.
He’s an avenging angel in a leather cut.
But there’s a kind of elegance to him, in the way he moves, like he could disappear in the blink of an eye.
Or have you pinned against the wall just as quick.