Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 798(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 532(@300wpm)
One of us needs to die, because otherwise, neither will ever be safe.
Still, I can’t help letting my gaze linger on the way his firm thighs squeeze the cherry-red hog he calls Smokey. He stops and makes his engine roar, like an animal flaunting its strength before fighting for dominance. And I wish the blood flowing south would make my head boil instead.
Road takes off his helmet and dismounts with the casual grace I’ve always envied. He doesn’t need to work on embodying the outlaw biker from everyone’s imagination. He just is. And it infuriates me to no end.
“I thought you may not show up. But I’m glad to be wrong this time,” Road says in a voice like chocolate-covered gravel. I’m not proud of the way my knees weaken as he steps closer, walking in front of his bike. The headlight creates a halo around his broad-shouldered form, and I find myself wanting to lick the dense shadow he casts. It’s like facing the embodiment of everything that haunts me day and night, but I stay firm and take in his sheepish smile.
Even now, he’s convinced he’s going to walk out of this with my blood on his hands, not the other way around.
Road’s not even a classically handsome man. His nose has been broken more than once and is now crooked. And it’s been too big for his face to begin with. His eyes are hooded but appear disproportionally large when compared with his mouth, and the dip between his lips and chin is so deep I sometimes imagine filling it with my lips. And still, when his brown gaze slides over me, it’s like physical touch, and heat climbs up my neck.
Now that he has this big burn scar there too, he has no business being this confident. Like a fucking wild dog on the prowl, unaware it’s not actually a wolf.
“You’re the one who’s late,” I snap at him and squeeze the knife. I don’t have time for chitchat. I’ve even tied my hair back into a tight knot on my nape so he can’t grab my braid.
Just a few hours ago, I did something I really shouldn’t have with him, and now I’m paying the price. I should have turned off that call, like a sane person. Instead, now he knows I watched him jerk off. And I liked it more than I’d admit.
In another world, another time, maybe I would fuck him.
“Oh, are you saying I should go back to bed?” he asks, pointing at his bike over the shoulder. I’m struck into silence, but maybe I should no longer be surprised by this guy’s bravado? He lives as if he has a death wish, and that’s not likely to change just because we’re about to have a fight only one of us can survive.
I don’t let him leave me stunned for more than a second and step closer. “I’m saying, you’re delaying your death, so get on with it. Knives only. Like men.” I’m used to fights, maybe I even like the surge of adrenaline, but the way my heart is beating has nothing to do with the blade in my hand. Every step Road takes my way is like the abyss coming for me. I can’t be this excited about him. Or any man in general. But especially him.
He opens his arms and looks around, checking the shadowy corners around the rows of old garages. This late in the night, the air is cold despite the warmth of the recent days, and it smells of nature awakening out of its winter slumber. As far as places to die go, this is not a bad one.
“Come on,” he says, snorting as if he were calling out my bluff, and he takes yet another step toward me. My breath catches in my throat. I know he has maybe two inches on me, but in this moment, in the silence of the semi-abandoned site on the outskirts of town, and with only our headlights for illumination, he appears gigantic. “There’s no one else here.”
I frown as his meaning sinks in. Did he think… what? That I invited him for a quickie? My face flushes at the suggestion. “I meant what I wrote. This can’t go on in any way. I don’t know what fucked-up world you live in, but in mine, only this matters.” I lift my knife to make him understand. “I’m giving you a chance. You either defend yourself, or don’t. I don’t give a shit.”
He doesn’t seem impressed, and his narrow lips twist. “So that wasn’t code for let’s do it live? What the fuck?” he asks and, against any rhyme or reason, comes even closer.
Without a weapon.
And instead of stabbing him, I take a step back. As though his sole presence is a threat.