Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Sarge sighed, meaty hands fisted at his hips. “You sure that’s what you want to do, Ellison?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“All right. Jenkins is solo today, so I’ll have him swing back to scoop you up.”
“Thank you, sir.” With one final glare for Beck, I left the room feeling equal parts anger and relief. Overall the anger won out, and I shot off a quick text to Madison.
Jameson: How does a Saturday night ride through Vegas sound?
Madison: Like fun. I’ll be there at eight.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Madison
If you had asked me before Jameson came into my life, how I felt about motorcycles, I would have given an ambivalent shrug, maybe rolled my eyes and grumbled about the noise.
But the truth was, there was nothing—outside the bedroom—that fired me up like having my arms wrapped around a big strong man on the back of a Harley. Smooth vibrations between my legs. And the whole time sporting a big ass goofy grin.
The wind whipped through my hair and with the faceguard open, the night air chilled my skin, overheated thanks to being wrapped around Jameson’s big, strong hard body.
This is nice. It was nice to be out with a friend, especially today. Ashby Manor was just so damn heavy all the time. Understandable, but it was wearing on me. It went from sad to angry to conspiring on a whim, and I’d had enough of it.
Calvin was so sad all the time, and then just as quickly flying into fits of rage. I understood and offered as much sympathy as I could, but holy shit, it was exhausting. And the fear he’d go back to self-medicating ate at me.
It was like being back in San Bernardino all over again, constantly afraid and walking on eggshells in case I pissed off the wrong person.
So yeah, strapped to the back of Jameson’s bike was the best part of my week, giving me a night free of tension and emotion.
We’d been riding in silence for almost an hour, taking in the sights of the city. The partygoers, the tourists, the sex workers, and street performers, the lights and the fountains, and even the mountains.
With every mile that passed, my shoulders loosened and relaxation wove its way through my body until I was practically melted against Jameson’s back.
Eventually, we needed a break, and we found a parking lot close to home filled with bikes. “This cool with you?”
I put my hands on his shoulders and jumped off the bike. “Fine by me. My legs were getting a little wobbly anyway.” I shook out one leg and then the other before stretching my arms and back.
“Stretch away. I’m gonna go mingle. Wanna join me?”
“Nope, I’m good here. You go have fun.” I shooed him away with a smile so he wouldn’t worry. “I’ll be around.” I watched Jameson walk off, his gait long and relaxed, his shoulders broad and strong. The man drew stares everywhere he went, and for the most part, he seemed oblivious.
He accepted a beer with a smile and a handshake and took a long swig that had me feeling jealous of that bottle of beer. Those lips had been on me like that, just a week ago, and still, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Hell, some nights, I could still feel his lips on mine, his cock, long and hard, between my thighs.
A hot biker chick with long blonde hair sauntered over to Jameson, her pink painted lips curled into a smile as she held her hand out in introduction. Her riding leathers clung to her body, and Jameson took a long, appreciative look while the woman flirted.
I looked away quickly, ignoring the jealousy that fired up my blood. She was a walking, talking, wet dream. Of course, Jameson was interested. Every biker in this parking lot was interested.
He’s my friend. Nothing more. I told myself that as many times as I needed to hear it, which was plenty since the woman was shooting her shot in a big way.
Her tits pressed up against his chest as she asked a question. Jamie pointed to her bike, and they fell deeper into conversation about a common interest they shared.
I turned away again, accepting a can of beer from a passing biker. Drowning my sorrows in alcohol was definitely not my jam, not after being raised by an alcoholic and her revolving door of alcoholic boyfriends. I finished the beer in three gulps to enjoy a nice buzz that would be short-lived, and I turned down the next offer that came my way.
He’s not mine. I did a fairly good job of not looking back at Jameson and biker Barbie, mostly because I didn’t want to see them having such a good time. I didn’t want to imagine myself as their third wheel.
“No thanks,” I mumbled under my breath.