Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
We found Violet near the entrance, deep in conversation with a redheaded woman. Violet turned when she saw us, and she immediately came to my side.
“Hey. Everything all right?”
“Yeah.” I gave her a small smile. “Rip’s taking me home… err… back to Haven.” I ducked my head, my cheeks heating. “Sorry.”
“Hey.” Violet reached for my chin and tilted my head up gently. “Haven is your home. As long as you want it to be.” She looked up at Rip. “You make her understand that, yeah?” Violet had this whole strict mom thing going on. Probably had to do with having a teenager like Caleb to deal with. Caleb was a great kid, but he and Riot, her husband, kept Violet on her toes. Occasionally, she had to set her foot down. When she did, Violet kind of looked like she did right now.
Again, it shouldn’t have surprised me but Rip grinned and gave Violet a crisp nod. “Absolutely, ma’am.”
Violet’s eyes got wide with shock, then she scowled. “If you ever ‘ma’am’ me again, Rip…”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. A genuine, heartfelt laugh. Somehow, I ended up leaning against Rip as I laughed. Violet giggled with me. Rip closed his arms around me and held me to him, his deep rumbling laughter vibrating through me and, oh my God, I soaked up the sensation. Especially when he rested his chin on top of my head.
Violet leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You’re going to be OK, Jade.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but when I looked at her, I saw the sheen of tears in her eyes as she gave me a beautiful smile. “You’re going to be OK.” For the first time since I escaped Eric, I thought I really might be able to be OK again.
The gravel lot outside was cooler than the bar. The neon from the sign above the door threw a red wash over everything. The air smelled like exhaust and damp asphalt coming off the highway beyond the tree line.
Rip led me to his bike at the far end of the lot, parked slightly apart from the others. The black paint and chrome caught the light from the bar sign in broken pieces across the tank and pipes. He pulled the spare helmet from where it hung on the handlebar and held it out.
“Here.”
I took it and started to lift it over my head, then paused. “Could I maybe ride without one again?”
He gave me an assessing look, then his features relaxed. “You need the wind in your hair.”
Relief washed through me. “You understand?”
“I do. Around here, we call it PMS.”
I bristled, my good humor fading in a second replaced by irritation. “Excuse me?”
Rip grinned at me unrepentant. “Parked motorcycle syndrome, baby.”
Again, a startled laugh exploded from my lungs. “OK, that’s funny. And I think maybe I understand exactly what it means.”
“Yeah.” Rip reached out slowly to brush a stray curl from my face. “I think maybe you do.” One corner of his lips turned up in a little half-smile, half-smirk. “One more time, honey. You good ridin’ with me? Because I’ll get Tiny to give me the keys to the cage and drag Violet back with us if you want.”
“No. I want this. Even if I didn’t love riding with the wind in my hair, I wouldn’t need Violet with me to feel safe with you, Rip. Thank you for giving that to me.”
He brushed his thumb over my lip, his gaze lingering on my mouth before he dropped his hand. “Good.” He called out to one of the guys walking toward the building, tossing the helmet to the other man when he turned in acknowledgement. He stepped back to swing his leg over the bike. “Come on. Let’s ride.”
I climbed on behind him and Rip started the engine. The vibration rolled up through the frame and into my thighs. For the first time in a very, very long time, I felt a stirring of desire. Riding the bike, my body intimately wrapped around Rip’s, felt exhilarating. Add the wind in my hair and the masculine scent of Rip I suddenly couldn’t get enough of, and my whole inside seemed to yawn and stretch and try to come alive. I barely recognized that part of myself, but she still lived inside me.
Rip pulled out of the lot and onto the road. We picked up speed and the humid night air whipped around me, the wind ruffling my hair. I tightened my arms around his torso. His leather cut was cool under my palm. Under the jacket, I could feel the solid reality of him, the movement of his breathing, the muscle in his abs and sides when he leaned into a curve.
Nashville moved past us in a parade of lights from traffic on the interstate as well as the spectacle of the Nashville skyline. I watched it over Rip’s shoulder and felt the wind take my thoughts with it.