Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 111229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
That’s it, I deduced. I was making brownies if it got me a smile like that. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t boil an egg. I’d figure out a way.
At that moment tattooed arms circled around Gwen and Cade pulled her against him, whispering in her ear. I gaped at them for a second. The fact that Gwen was wearing a thousand dollar dress, made up to the nines and Cade wearing jeans and a leather cut was inconsequential. They looked right. Like they fit. A little ball of happiness settled in my gut. Gwen deserved this.
At that point we said our goodbyes, me leaving my best friend and her biker to start what looked like a romance for the history books. Brock opened the door for Rosie and she glanced up at him.
“Thanks, Brocky,” she said, shooting out the door.
“Jesus Christ,” Brock muttered. He turned to me, putting his hand at my waist. “Let’s get you home, Sparky.” His eyes locked onto mine and my stomach flipped at the erotic suggestion behind them. I couldn’t get out the door fast enough.
Rosie chattered throughout the journey; it was pleasant and Brock obviously thought of her as a younger sister. He even got out and walked her to her door and helped her inside when we made it to her place. Biker gentleman. Who would have thought? But I didn’t need a gentleman. I’d had one of those. That didn’t work out. I would be really pissed off if Brock was a nice guy hidden underneath tattoos and leather.
We had been driving in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable but it was loaded; you could cut the sexual tension with a knife. I squirmed slightly in my seat, feeling turned on already and he hadn’t even touched me. I felt his eyes turn to me, then lower to my exposed legs.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
I would have smirked at the statement had he not sounded...disappointed? Something in his tone puzzled me. We pulled up my driveway and he turned off the engine. Good sign.
“Do you wanna come in for a drink?” I asked, not intending on offering him any actual refreshment once we got into the house. But we needed the pretense. I couldn’t very well ask ‘Do you want to come in for some no doubt mind blowing sex? Never mind the fact we just met.’ Well, I could, but I was going to act like a lady until we got inside at least. Then I’d release my inner nympho.
Brock ran his hand through his hair and locked his eyes on mine. The desire was unmistakable.
“Yeah, I fuckin’ do,” he started, and I sensed a but. “But I just gotta get a couple of things straight first. Then I’d like nothing more than to taste every inch of you, see if you’re as wild in bed as I think you are, Sparky.” His voice turned rough at the end.
“Wha…what do you need to get straight?” I stuttered, fighting the wetness in my underwear and the little voice that was telling me to pounce on him.
Brock’s face turned suddenly blank. It transformed so quickly I had to blink a couple of times. “You’ve been looking into the club,” he said flatly.
My stomach dropped slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied.
Brock scowled. “Don’t play dumb. You think we don’t know when someone’s looking into us, pulling files, asking around about us?” His voice was quiet but it had an edge. A dangerous edge.
I suspected I might be in a slightly hazardous situation. No matter how nice their sisters were or how easygoing the members, these guys were still dangerous. I had the files to prove it.
“You and Gwen turn up, both fuckin’ knockouts. Your friend gets the instant attention of my VP and get yourselves an invite to a club gathering. You get half the men gagging for you, not to mention Gwen getting my brother tied up in fucking knots. What’s your play here?” His voice was flat and threatening.
“There is no play,” I said quietly. There was no way I was revealing anything about my reasons for looking into the club. Especially not to do with Jimmy. Gwen had left him behind. No one here knew about it; Gwen didn’t have to live with the ‘victim’ label. No one was going to know until she decided she wanted to share. If she ever decided to tell them.
“Bullshit!” Brock’s voice rose with impatience and I jumped. “Two high class pieces like you don’t just come along and decide to slum it with bikers for no reason. We’re not your people. So I repeat my question. What is your play? Keep in mind I’m going to find out either way. It’s just quicker and better for you to tell me straight up now. You ain’t fucking up my club, Sparky, no matter how sweet your ass is. And my VP may be blinded by gash right now, but he’s got me to find out what’s going on.”
I stared at him as his words sunk in. Did he seriously just refer to Gwen as a “gash”? No fucking way. Anger blossomed in my stomach, replacing the desire and fear that had been there moments ago.
“Okay, Rocket Power, let’s just get one thing straight here. You refer to Gwen in a derogatory way one more time you’ll need a surgeon to remove my Jimmy Choo from your balls. Secondly, there is no ‘play’.” I finger quoted his ridiculous phrase. Who spoke like that?
“The only thing there is is my concern for my best friend,” I continued. “She’s getting involved with someone who doesn’t look all that safe on the surface. I’m all for not judging a book by its leather bound cover, but I’m also not an idiot. We’re new here—we don’t know anything about you or your ‘club’,” I finger quoted again. “You could help old ladies cross the road in your spare time or you could manage a cock fighting syndicate. I don’t know. Therefore I did a little background check on you. Not to hurt your club but to protect my girl. Your reaction right now makes me sure I made the right choice, asshole.” I delivered my speech in a scathing tone and accompanying glare. When I was finished I grasped the door handle, intending to storm out. Does one storm out of a vehicle? Maybe I could climb out aggressively.