Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“Painter, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” she said, holding my gaze as her face hardened. Damned if I didn’t love the way my name sounded on her lips. “I thought you were my friend, but you ditched me. You treated me like I was an annoying pest when I tried to thank you for loaning me your car. You acted like all those letters between us meant nothing. That hurt me, Painter. Hurt me a lot. Maybe I’ll regret telling you this once I’m sober, but right now it feels good to say the words, so listen up.”
My eyes widened—who the hell was this girl? Mel didn’t have a backbone, not like this. But apparently she did, because she wasn’t done talking yet.
“So far as I’m concerned, you have no right to tell me what to do,” she said, the words careful and deliberate as she reached out to poke me in the chest. “Ever. I was having a great time until you interrupted me, and I’m going to leave you now and go back to having a great time without you. If you don’t like that, you can shove it right up your ass.”
MELANIE
I’d lost my mind.
Only possible explanation for what’d just come out of my mouth. Wait—there was another one. I’d been possessed by a demon. I blinked slowly, thankful for the wall behind me because I’m not sure I could’ve stayed upright without it.
This is what drunk feels like, I realized. I thought I’d been drunk before, but I’d only been tipsy or something, because tonight was totally different. Take this whole situation with Painter. I knew he was a big, scary guy. I knew telling him off—alone, in the dark—was a bad idea.
I just didn’t care.
Talk about liberating . . . Painter’s face darkened, and I giggled. Couldn’t help myself, it was just too funny. Mr. Big Bad Biker Man didn’t know what the hell to say because I was right and he was wrong and—
“You have no idea what you’re fucking with,” he growled. He reached out, burying a hand in my hair and twisting it tight, tilting my head up toward him. Leaning into me, his eyes searched my face as his jaw clenched. “You think this is a game, Mel? Not even Em and Kit would be stupid enough to take off into the night with some guy they don’t know.”
“You mean like Jessica took off with you?” I asked, feeling bold. “You’re such a hypocrite.”
“All the more reason to stay away from me. You need to go home and stay there.”
“Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouth?” I demanded, frustrated because he was full of shit and I’d just been sucking on his thumb and . . . Em had been right—Painter did have a complex. I had no interest in getting stuck on top of some stupid pedestal, though. I wanted to lick him all over, not sit on an inspirational platform of womanly virtue. “Now let me go and we’ll call it good. I’ll go back to the party and have fun. You can go fuck some whore if you’re horny or say a few prayers to the Virgin Mary if you’re feeling guilty about something. Just leave me alone.”
His fingers tightened in my hair, his other arm reaching out to jerk me forcefully into his body. Then I was plastered against him, our faces inches apart. Yikes. Somehow he was bigger up close . . .
“You should listen to me,” he said, the words low and more intense than I’d ever heard from him. “You realize Taz could do anything to you out here? He’s not part of this club and you’re nobody’s property. There’s no protection for you if you don’t use some fucking common sense.”
“Taz seemed really nice,” I whispered, surrounded by his heat and strength and the realization that there was absolutely nobody who knew where I was right now. Okay. Painter might’ve been onto something—going out into the dark with Taz had been stupid, because I knew Taz even less than I knew Painter, and I had a feeling that hanging in the dark with my prison pen pal wasn’t going to end well. Suddenly his hand caught my ass, lifting me up and slamming me back against the wall. My arms clutched his shoulders and my legs wrapped around his waist.
Holy. Shit.
Bad idea or not, I don’t think I’d ever been more turned on in my life. How many times had I dreamed about something like this? Painter’s mouth dropped down to my ear, catching it in his teeth just tight enough to hurt. I felt the hardness between his legs grinding into me as need exploded through my body. He smelled so good . . . My hips twisted, desperate for more. Painter groaned.