Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133975 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)
She knew he fucked everything in the county with a pussy, skanks to married women from the “right” side of town. She didn’t seem judgmental, just amused. When the women treated her like shit, she never looked hurt or upset, she simply gave him her little grin, the one that lit up his world, and went to the other side of the bar while he dumped the bitch. No one talked to Lyric like that on his watch.
She complimented him. The words were always offhand. Casual. As if she were stating a fact, but she always said something nice to him, like how she loved his hair, it was thick and shiny and she could tell he took care of it. That meant something to her. She was into hair. She’d tell him a shirt color looked good on him. Or she liked the way he wore his motorcycle boots so much she wasn’t going to make him take them off if they were muddy. She meant those things, and she wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t certain she knew how to flirt, and the fact that she didn’t do it was wreaking havoc with every one of his preconceived notions about women and relationships.
He didn’t acquire female friends. He fucked women and kicked them to the curb. He made it clear before he had them what it was and that there wouldn’t be a repeat performance. Women never believed him. Never. They thought they would be the one to “tame” him. It was a crock of shit. Most of the time, he couldn’t take the utter crap, the lies and idiotic romantic nonsense they spouted. He had a brain, much to his chagrin, and it needed stimulation, not inane conversation.
Lyric believed him when he explained his onetime fuck policy and just laughed. She told him he was hotter than hell, and she could see why women fell like dominos, but that didn’t say much about their intellect if they couldn’t see, with his atrocious track record, that he was telling them the truth. That had led to him objecting to the word atrocious, and it had turned into a two-hour discussion he’d enjoyed more than anything else the entire five months he’d been hanging in that little town.
And then there was the little thing she’d done that had made him feel—hell, he didn’t know how it had made him feel. She’d been tired, on her feet all day, and he’d dropped by her shop at closing time for no reason other than he had to see her. She’d seen him coming, flung open the door and greeted him with that unbelievable smile of hers. He’d taken her out to dinner, a little diner that had extraordinary food. Her order had come up, but his had been delayed. She’d sat there across from him asking about his day. Seemingly genuinely interested, and she hadn’t touched her food until his arrived. It was a little thing, but he’d liked it a fuck of a lot. Too much.
Cradled by her soft body, feeling her superb feminine form, Keys inwardly cursed the relentless demands his cock made on him. He didn’t need to be as hard as a rock when their lives were at stake and she was scared out of her mind. That made him far more of a disgusting pervert than he’d ever considered himself. Shit. He knew he was worthless. He’d always known it, but in this instance, he wanted to live, to ensure she did, and that the assholes, who were so cowardly they’d hit them from behind with a baseball bat, didn’t have a chance to touch her.
He knew he’d used women to relieve the merciless hard-on that never let up, but they’d used him as well. Not Lyric. She hadn’t once indicated she was willing. If anything, it was just the opposite. He’d thought it was the chase that kept bringing him back, but with Lyric, there was no chase. She was without guile. She was just…Lyric. Wildfire and sunshine.
Fiercely aroused was a state he often found himself in, but he’d never experienced feeling when his cock demanded sating. He didn’t want the intimacy of kissing. He didn’t want to have to seduce anyone. He wanted to bury his cock in pussy and get off and then get away. He didn’t want conversation or the exchange of numbers.
But then there was Lyric. Her mouth. That sweet innocence he tasted along with the hint of strawberries and fresh snow on her breath. Finding restraint took effort, but he managed to kiss her gently. Exchange breath. Exchange heat. He was shocked that he could be lying in a coffin, his head pounding, and still want a female. Not just want. Need.
He suppressed a groan. Who the hell was he kidding? He didn’t want just any female’s body. He wanted the one under him.