Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
If I don't stop this now, what am I agreeing to? A kiss? Something more?
I don’t even try to get away.
With a soft, victorious chuckle, he tilts my head up just a little more before slanting his lips across mine. They're soft, much softer than I remembered, a stark contrast to his calloused fingers and the rasp of his beard. His tongue teases my mouth open as he slides his hand along my jaw and to the nape of my neck where he cups the back of my head and pulls me into him.
I’m lost. No one has ever kissed me like this, possessive, taking ownership in a way that makes me want to be owned, even if it's only for as long as the kiss lasts. Closing my eyes tightly, I meet his tongue with mine, loving how we playfully chase each other. The give and take of our mouths as we learn each other until I’m dizzy and pull back, gripping his thighs to steady myself.
His blue eyes are dark and stormy, and there’s a hungry look on his face, like he’s imagining what I’d look like naked and spread out on the table for him to play with. Or maybe that’s just what I’m imagining. I touch my fingers to my mouth, savoring the lingering sensation of his lips while I stare at him wide-eyed and breathing heavily.
What are we doing? Do I have a crush on the criminals next door?
“Consider that lesson number one,” he says with a smirk.
I pull my hands away and stand up. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need lessons.” Turning away, I open the cupboard next to the fridge and reach for a glass. “Do you want water or anything? I meant to ask earlier.”
Skyhigh follows me, his chest right against my back. “I think you do.” He plucks the glass from my hand and puts it back. “Maybe I was wrong and you don’t have a fancy degree, but I know for damn sure that you are too smart and too curious not to wonder if I was right last night.”
“About what?”
“About us being able to show you that you’ve been missing the fuck out on the type of sex you deserve. The kind people write about in books.”
“I—” What’s stopping me? It's not like I’m betraying anyone. Not only am I single, I hardly even know anyone around here. The only thing keeping me from grabbing life by the balls—literally—is some messed up fear of being judged.
A knock on the window saves me from having to make any decisions here and now. We both turn to see Blackout looking in, and Dragon checking out the yard. He looks curious, but not enough to make me think he saw me about to crawl right into Skyhigh’s lap.
“Just think about it, Willow. Real hard.” His voice drops lower, and turns raspier. “It’ll be quieter at the club tonight. We can come by and pick you up, show you around without all the distraction.”
“Maybe, I’m not sure.”
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at me. “You got plans?”
“No, I just—”
“Then we’ll see you about eight.” He winks, and then he's out the backdoor, leaving me breathless, confused and horny.
“What just happened?” I ask the empty kitchen.
9
WILLOW
“Oh my God, Grace. What do I wear?” I have my phone propped up on my dresser so she can see me while I go through my closet.
Her annoyed harrumph comes clearly through the phone speaker. “I haven’t decided if I want to help you or not yet.”
“I said I was sorry for not telling you I went over there last night.”
“Yeah, and I reserve the right to not forgive you yet. And even if I did, I think this is a bad idea. This isn’t like when I visited you in New York and we met those metal guys with the cool tattoos at the bar. I know they look good, I’m married, not blind, but it’s the Outlaw Sons. Just in the past couple years I’ve seen so many articles about investigations into what they’re doing. Not that long ago a whole ass boat exploded off the coast and everyone knows it had to do with them.”
“I…” I can’t defend what I’m doing. She’s probably right, but… “You haven’t met them. They’re nice!”
“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?”
“No.” I hold up a flowy blouse with embroidered flowers to my chest and look in the mirror.
She snorts. “This isn’t Coachella.”
“Fine. What about this with jeans?” I swap it out for a tight, hot pink baby doll tee.
“Better. What did you wear last night?”
“The black dress I had on at dinner, and my chucks.”
“Only you would land a date with a bunch of bikers dressed like a middle schooler.”