Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43689 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
“I’m not asking for forever,” she said. “I’m just asking for now. For you to stop running every time you feel something. You need to live in the moment. Don’t live your life in the background because you’re afraid to lose something precious. Learn to protect it as best you can. Control the things you can. Prepare for the things you can’t as best you can. But the universe decides. You have to hold their memory tight in your heart. And know they wouldn’t want you to suffer because the universe decided someone needed them more than you did.”
If this had come from anyone else, I’d have laughed in their face. I’d have called them all kinds of crazy and delusional and motherfucker, but all I had to do was look into Ellie’s eyes and know she meant every Goddamned word she said. She truly saw life the way she described.
I stared at her, this woman who had somehow slipped past every barrier I’d ever built and in only the space of a few days. Her words somehow changed me. Stripped me bare. And she still had no idea about my past or why I’d gone to prison. I’d give her more than anyone other than Knuckles. Thing was, what terrified me most wasn’t that she might leave. It was that she might stay and become so important to me that losing her would destroy whatever was left of me.
Her eyes held mine, searching. I saw no judgment there, only an openness and the pure belief of what she said. She made my fucking chest ache. This woman, with her weird cats and her smelly witches’ brew, somehow saw past all my walls, all my defenses.
“For you, I could try,” I promised, the words feeling like a vow.
Something shifted in her expression, her body leaning toward mine like a flower seeking sunlight. I closed the remaining distance between us, one hand coming up to cup her face while the other slid around her waist, pulling her against me.
When our lips met, it was different from our first kiss. No hesitation, no surprise. Just heat and hunger and the strange, fragile feeling of falling into something I couldn’t control. She made a soft sound against my mouth, her hands sliding up my chest to rub over my shoulders, then around my neck.
I could have lost myself in that kiss, drowned in it willingly. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew if we didn’t slow down now, we wouldn’t stop at all. And she deserved better than a quick fuck in the theater room with the club waiting outside.
I broke the kiss, pressing my forehead against hers as we both struggled to catch our breath. Her eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted and swollen from my kiss. And the most beautiful, softest smile on her face I’d ever seen in my fucking life.
“Let’s go back to the party,” I said softly.
Her eyes opened, surprise and confusion clear in their depths. “What?”
“We can talk. Get to know each other.” I brushed my thumb across her lower lip. “Think of it as speed dating.”
A slow smile spread across her face, lighting up her eyes in a way that made my heart stutter. “Speed dating with a room full of bikers watching our every move?”
“They’re invested now,” I said dryly. “Got money riding on us.”
She laughed, the sound washing over me like a balm. “Well, we shouldn’t disappoint them, should we?”
I took her hand, twining my fingers with hers. It felt right, her small hand in mine. And, oh, my fucking God, when the fuck did I fucking hold hands with a woman? Whatever this was between us, whatever it might become, I wasn’t running from it. I wasn’t running from life. For the first time in years, I thought I wanted to stay, to see where this road might lead.
“No,” I agreed, squeezing her hand gently. “We definitely shouldn’t disappoint them.”
Chapter Five
Elvira
The industrial kitchen of the Kiss of Death compound smelled like vanilla, cinnamon, and pumpkin spice, a stark contrast to the usual scents of fried meat and grease. I swear, the first time Carrie brought me in here the place smelled like a grease trap. Not because it was dirty or anything, but because they’d deep fried enough onion rings to feed a moderate-size army the day before. I stood at the massive steel counter, flour smeared across my cheek and dusted on my black apron with the yellow cat eyes over my boobs, while Chains measured sugar with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Three carved pumpkins with electric candles flickered from the windowsill, casting dancing shadows across the walls. Plastic skeletons hung from the exposed pipes alongside cobwebs I’d strung up that morning over the windows and on the back side of the kitchen away from anything important.