Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Darby broke out into a big smile. “You go, girl!” Her gaze shifted to Inferno. “You guys hookin’ up?”
“Darby…” Sully sounded pained and he actually winced.
“I swear to God, if you say I can’t ask those kinds of questions, I’m going to tell all the kids to start calling you Gramps.” Without giving Sully time to respond, Darby turned back to me. “I only ask because if you are, I can make sure Tiny sends a prospect for your car. You can have it here and leave when you want.”
That caught me off guard. “Seriously?”
“I mean, I’d want to feel like I could leave if I wanted to.”
“I think I’d like that,” I said, nodding. I started to go digging for my key. In my bra, along with my debit card, because I didn’t have a clutch. “Uh, sorry.” I turned around but Darby stopped me with a laugh.
“Don’t worry about it. Sully will just tow it here. I’ll have him park it next to Inferno’s ride. That OK?”
“I mean, if you’re sure. I’m kind of ashamed to admit how much more comfortable I am knowing I’ll have my car here.” I grimaced. “Not too smart, huh?”
“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Inferno said ominously. He bent and put his shoulder in my mid-section, lifting me easily. When he stood, he swatted my ass through the thin dress. “Birthday girls aren’t allowed to talk badly about themselves. Which calls for your birthday spanking.”
I braced myself on his back and tried to turn to peer over his shoulder. “Well, technically, it’s after midnight, so it’s not my birthday anymore. I don’t think I need a spanking.” It was a token protest and we both knew it. Apparently, Darby did as well.
The other woman waved and called after me. “We’re two doors down if you need us! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
Someone opened the door to the building and the music vibrated through me. There were several guys calling out to Inferno with cat calls. They didn’t make remarks about me, though. Instead, they were aiming good-natured ribbing at Inferno, while encouraging me to “make him an honest man.”
He carried me through the huge common room -- the place was literally a converted warehouse -- to the back of the building and the lift. While he waited on the elevator, Inferno set me gently on my feet, steadying me with his hands on my hips. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he said with a grimace. “The guys get a little rowdy, but they don’t mean no harm.”
I grinned up at him. “I didn’t take offense.”
The lift door opened and Inferno took my hand, guiding me inside. Our destination was the second floor. He led me to what I assumed was his apartment or room or whatever.
“We’re here,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice as he opened the door.
“So we are.” As I looked around, I noticed how neat the place appeared. A table and four chairs sat in the eat-in kitchen area, and a row of tall windows with the blinds closed dominated the outer wall. Through the open doorway I could see a queen bed with a dark blanket.
I turned around before I could think too hard about it and kissed him, pushing him back toward the bedroom door. He made a low sound against my mouth, surprised, and then he wrapped his arms around me with a groan. I kissed him harder, pushing him back a few steps until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He didn’t try to take over but let me lead.
“You sure?” he murmured against my lips, barely a question at all.
“Yes.” I already had my hands under his shirt.
He huffed something between a laugh and a groan and pulled it over his head himself and tossed it to the floor. I got my first real look at Inferno without the crowd of Throttle in the way. He had old scars everywhere. Healed burns twisting up one side of his ribs, a puckered white line along his collarbone, ink woven through all of it like somebody had decided his skin was a canvas. I put my palm flat against his chest.
“Like what you see?” he asked in a husky growl.
“Well, don’t let it go to your head.” I tried to smirk up at him. Really, his body was truly a work of art.
“Too late.” He reached for the zipper at my back, dragged it down slowly. The dress slid off my shoulders and I let it pool at my feet along with what little dignity I had left, standing there in nothing but my underwear and my motorcycle boots. Hastily, I pulled my key and debit card from my bra and tossed them to the nearest flat surface.
His gaze dropped and stayed there a beat too long. “Fuckin’ boots stay on.”