Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 129681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
That wicked gaze narrowed.
Damn. This girl could slay me with a look.
I moved for my bike, and she kept her distance as we went. I swung my leg over and pressed the ignition button. The loud roar filled the night, mixed with the rhythm of the rain.
The woman hesitated at my side, warring, looking back at her car that sat like a heap of disappointment behind us.
I stretched out my hand again. “Get on. That thing’s going nowhere tonight.”
Thunderbolt eyes pierced me, as sharp as a blade. “Touch me, and I stab you.”
Deep laughter rolled. “Have no doubt about that, darlin’. No doubt at all.”
Finally, she gave and put her hand in mine.
A shockwave streaked my flesh.
A clash of that severity that blistered in the air and coalesced with her touch.
What the motherfuck?
Sucking it down, I steadied her as she swung a long leg over my bike and tucked her body close to mine.
She curled her arms around my waist, her breath hot on my neck.
I felt her all around. Heat and flames and ferocity.
Need went stampeding through my veins.
I silently scolded my cock like it was a thirteen-year-old boy who’d cut class to get high.
Make bad choices and you’re gonna end up no place good.
I knocked my bike into gear and took back to the road that was turning into a river.
A flood of water streamed down, and the tires of my bike cut through and created a wave.
I took the next left, ignoring the way I could feel the hammer of her heart beating into my back, like that thunder could sink right in and take over.
The way her arms curled tighter and tighter. Clinging to me like I could be her refuge.
To the left was Absolution, the club my brother Trent ran and owned, though I had a piece of it since I’d invested in it when we’d come to build new lives here in Redemption Hills.
Blue neon lights glowed through the storm like a mirage. A sanctuary sitting in the middle of factories and shops.
It didn’t matter that the sky was dumping, the place was packed as always, the club set in an old warehouse that we’d taken from the rubble and built a new dream.
Where we’d taken the worth of our depravity and done our best to pour it into something better.
Where we’d left behind the crimes and misdeeds and tried to come clean.
But where Absolution was Trent’s baby, mine was on the lot at the back.
I took the two short lefts that wound around the club to where Iron Ride sat on a four-acre lot behind Absolution.
The building was massive. Two soaring stories. The customer lobby and entrance were through big glass doors that were on the right, and a row of huge garage doors ran to the left.
I could feel half the woman’s tension drain away when she saw the building with the glowing sign.
Slowing to a crawl, I pushed the button mounted on my bike that made the farthest garage door crawl open. Lights flashed on inside. They glinted against the shiny black epoxy floors of the shop.
I eased my bike in, pulling it alongside my truck, ushering us out of the rain and into safety.
My boots came out to plant on the ground to balance the bike as I turned off the engine and kicked the stand.
In an instant, quiet surrounded us. The pounding of the rain that echoed on the metal roof had become a steady drone that covered us.
A hazy, mesmerizing dream.
The girl’s arms tightened around my waist like she didn’t know what to do with herself from there, and I could feel her reservations return full force.
“This is it,” I rumbled low.
Warily, she eased back to inspect the shop.
Iron Ride was ten-thousand-square-feet of pure bliss.
A sanctuary.
Where I found my joy. Where I found new purpose. Where I created beauty when my past life had created devastation.
It was all thick, brick walls, gleaming black floors, and massive steel bay doors.
Bikes in varying states of renovation were in different bays and workspaces. A few classic cars were situated about, too.
You knew when you brought your baby into Iron Ride that you were getting first class. The equipment was state-of-the-art, place ultra-clean and ultra-modern.
Still, it remained authentic.
“Wow.” She breathed it.
Slowly, I shifted, taking her hand to help her off.
She stumbled back onto her heels to the side of my bike.
My damned breath hitched in my throat.
Bright lights glowed from where they were hung from the rafters, and for the first time, I got a good look at her.
The girl was devastation wrapped in a black, seductive bow.
Ebony hair and eyes the color of a toiling sea. The darkest, deepest blue. An abyss where it’d be so easy to get lost. That soaked white tee stuck to the contours of her curvy, pin-up body.