Series: Straight to Hell MC Series by Sam Crescent
Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
He felt the warmth of her against his back. He took it slow, keeping a close eye on all of their surrounding areas so he didn’t run the risk of bumping into the black SUV. There weren’t too many cars on the road.
Arriving at her apartment building, he saw she wasn’t in the good part of the city, but at least not the worst part. He parked his bike, locked it up, and then followed her up to her apartment, knowing she was nervous.
This was the longest they had been together, without distance between them. He figured she was going to argue about him staying with her, but her fear was tangible. Whoever was stalking her scared her more than her fear of bikers.
They walked to her door, and she slid the key into the lock. “Let me go first,” he said, stepping into Grace’s apartment, and he was immediately swamped with her sweet scent.
Her apartment was clean, tidy, with only a few belongings. She didn’t have a television, not that he blamed her. Most of the shows on television right now were fucking shit. He looked around the room, and there was no sign of any forced entry. No sign of anything out of place.
“Do you think they could break into my apartment?” she asked.
“We don’t know what we’re dealing with.” He looked into her small bedroom, as well as the tiny bathroom, seeing a black lace bra he couldn’t help but approve of. It looked so silky and sexy, and he would love to strip it from her body. His cock started to get hard, and he quickly left the bathroom and turned to find Grace standing there with her hands clasped together.
“Are you intending to stay the night?” she asked.
“That’s the plan.” He removed his leather cut and put his hands on his hips, which also happened to flex his muscles, and that was just ... coincidence. Her gaze dropped to his arms, then toward his pecks, and he saw the blush staining her cheeks. Grace was not as unaffected by his presence as she seemed to want to be. He found her reaction to him adorable.
A cat came out from a box, taking him by surprise. “What the fuck’s that?”
“My cat.”
He wasn’t a fan of cats.
“Great...” He rubbed his hands together and stepped around the massive cat.
“Have you eaten?” she asked.
“No.”
“Oh. I’ve got some chicken, and I made a pasta salad yesterday. It shouldn’t take me long to cook.”
“How about I cook, and you go and take a shower? You’ve been working all day,” he said, stepping into her very small kitchenette.
She glanced down at her body and nodded. “You’re sure?”
“All stoves are pretty much the same, and chicken, you cook it through if you don’t want the shits,” he said.
She wrinkled her nose. “That’s ... actually quite accurate.” She shrugged. “Okay then.”
Grace glanced back at him, and he opened her fridge to see there wasn’t a lot of food. He didn’t get to read a lot about her, as it didn’t feel right to know more than Grace was willing to give.
He grabbed the chicken and rummaged through her cupboards. He liked her a hell of a lot more, seeing the variety of different chili sauces on display, as well as a multitude of spice blends. Grace clearly didn’t like bland foods, and that he could work with. He found the pasta salad and took a bite, it had diced carrots, peas, celery, peppers, and a spiced dressing, and it was delicious. Reaper wasn’t used to this. At the club, they had a chef handle all the cooking.
He seasoned the chicken with a bit of Cajun spice blend, and he served up the salad, but he did have to add a little bit of diced cheese. The fucking cat watched him cook the entire time.
The chicken was finished just as Grace stepped out of her bedroom, and he saw her hair was damp and her face was clear of any makeup. She was gorgeous with makeup, and even more stunning without it. She looked fresh-faced, and there was a flush to her cheeks. She wore a pair of bed shorts, as well as a vest top, and he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. Hard not to notice with a body like hers. Did she even realize he noticed that? Her nipples were tightly puckered, even though the apartment was quite warm.
“Dinner is served,” he said.
She didn’t have a dining room table, and there was only a small sofa, so he sat next to her with the food on his lap.
“I’m sorry, I’m not used to guests,” she said.
“That’s all right. I rarely eat at the table in the clubhouse anyway.”
She nodded.
He glanced over to her, and he wanted to say more, but instead he took a bite.