Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Getting out of my car, I step up onto the sidewalk and tug my jacket tighter around my body, searching my bag for my keys. I dawdle toward the main entrance as the loud rumble of an engine cuts through the night. I ignore it at first, but when it becomes insanely loud, I can’t help but glance up just in time to watch headlights flash across the damp road, followed by a sleek, black sports bike that careens around the corner. It’s the kind of bike that screams poor financial decisions and questionable survival skills, but there’s no denying that it looks like one hell of a ride.
I watch the biker for a second, waiting for him to fly straight past me, only he cuts between the parked cars and rides right up onto the sidewalk, careening toward me until finally coming to a dead stop right in front of the main entrance of my building.
I stumble back a step to keep from being hit by the moronic biker, and all I can do is watch as he sits back and kills the engine before slowly pulling off his helmet.
And . . . damn it.
This is about to be aggressively inconvenient.
He’s unfairly beautiful.
Dirty blond hair falls messily over his forehead, slightly flattened from the helmet, but it doesn’t last long as he reaches up and ruffles his hair. I’m instantly mesmerized.
He watches me as I appraise him, looking over his stubbled jaw, taking in his hazel-green eyes that somehow manage to look both warm and dangerous at the same damn time. Then there’s the body. It’s hard to tell how tall he is while he’s still sitting on that bike, but there’s no denying that he’ll tower over me.
Broad shoulders and muscled arms stretch beneath a fitted white tee, which does a terrible job of hiding his toned chest and lean waist. He’s mouthwatering. He’s less brute than Hunter, and more agile. He looks as though he’s the kind of man who could go all night, leaving nothing but pure destruction in his wake.
Just the way I like it.
Red flags? Yes, please!
This is the kind of man who’s either going to ruin my life or scratch every itch I’ve ever had. Either way, he’s going to be useful.
His gaze narrows, watching me with a similar curiosity, but there’s something soft there. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely looks dangerous, but he also looks like the kind of man who’d stop and cuddle a kitten he found in the street.
He swings one leg over the bike so that he sits casually on the seat, one arm thrown over the handlebar while the other is braced on the seat beside him as he gives me the laziest grin I’ve ever seen—the kind of grin that should come with legal disclaimers.
“You always stare at strangers like that? Or am I just lucky?”
Well, fuck me. I’m in trouble. Or maybe this is a gift sent directly from the heavens.
I recover quickly and take a slow, deep breath to calm my racing heart. “Well, that depends,” I say, inching toward him, unable to keep my gaze from sailing over his body. “Are you dangerous?”
His eyes drag down my body in a way that leaves me burning up. “Are you into dangerous?”
Okay. So this one is a smooth talker. I can get down with that.
I just keep looking at him like the snack that he is, and when he pushes off the bike and steps closer, I’m finally able to see just how tall he is, and damn it, I was right. The man towers over me. He’s well over six feet tall, and as he slowly moves closer, my nervous system crashes into complete failure.
Then I catch his scent.
Leather. Clean. A little smoky with something warm underneath. It’s masculine and sharp. Different from Hunter’s dark, woodsy cologne. This is less controlled. Wilder somehow.
My chest heaves with hunger. It’s almost comical how he likely assumes that he’s the one in control here, that he’s coming on to me, yet I keep reeling him in until he’s right where I want him.
My gaze flicks to the sleek black sports bike he just abandoned on the sidewalk. “Yours?”
He nods. “Unless someone stole it in the last ten seconds.”
A grin pulls at the corner of my lips. “Cocky.”
“Observant.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and he moves in even closer, offering me his name. “Maddox Blake.”
“Maddox Blake, huh?” I say, ignoring his outstretched hand. I like the way it sounds on my lips, but I think I’ll like it more when I’m screaming it out later. “It’s a hot name. That’s the kind of name that says, I emotionally ruin women and still get myself invited to family Christmas.”
A knowing smirk plays on his lips, as if to say that I’ve hit the nail right on the head, and there’s no way in hell he’s about to deny it.