Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 127(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I told him I would never let myself get involved with one of these biker guys. I promised.
But I never anticipated meeting a guy like Slate either.
2
SLATE
I don’t do “dates.”
I don’t do flowers, candles, or any of that romance shit that girls are into. If I want a girl, I take her. Simple.
But Ivy Calloway makes me want to do every goddamn thing I swore I’d never do.
She’s the definition of temptation, encased in something too soft for a rough bastard like me. Flashy, fierce eyes that glare thrillingly back at me like she has no idea she’s the most seductively dangerous woman I’ve ever met. Those pouty lips, so plump and so pink, just begging for my tongue and my teeth.
And her curves…
God almighty.
Talk about a womanly body just made to be held, claimed, roughed up by my callused hands. And her long, messy hair that I am dying to just wrap up in my harsh grip and pull hard, tilting her head back while I show her why a young, innocent girl has no business with a man like me.
She looked up at me like she wasn’t sure if she should run for her life or let me have my way with her. Which makes sense, considering who her father is. But I’ve got a feeling she wants me more than she wants to be a good girl.
Ever since I first saw Ivy at her father’s shop, she’s been running through my mind non-stop. I was dying to ask her out yesterday, but our war with The Reaper’s Oath guys had to take priority. We gave them a good beating–hard enough that they’ll think again before invading our turf–and since she said yes to my date proposal today, I haven’t been able to think about anything else but her. I was barely able to make it through my bar shift back at the clubhouse. It’s like I have an itch I can’t scratch, a hunger I can’t feed. And I’m just dying to get my hands on her.
Gorgeous and innocent.
Eighteen years old…
I can picture her back at the shop, covered in engine oil and grease, sweat beading over her flawless skin, and the thought of some prick who isn’t me walking in there and giving her the wrong look has me feeling homicidal.
So when the clock hits six, I’m out the door and on my bike, gunning it back to Calloway’s Auto to pick her up.
The door to the garage is closed, but I can see her through the office window. She’s bent over the counter, which instantly sends blood pumping to my cock. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, wisps falling down on either side of her face, framing her beauty like she is a painted portrait come to life. This girl wears no makeup. She needs no makeup.
Since I saw her earlier, she’s knotted up her work shirt around her waist, exposing her midriff, which is also smeared with oil and grease. It’s just a hint of skin, but it’s enough to kick my lust for her into overdrive. Christ, she’s so fucking sexy. I want to destroy her.
I pull up out front, kill the engine, and bang on the door. Her head snaps up immediately, and her wide, golden-brown eyes lock on to mine. Unmistakable shock is plastered all over her face. Was she not expecting me to actually show up? I’m a man of my word. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it.
She waves a hand and calls out, “One second!”
I nod and watch as she quickly finishes up whatever she was doing on the computer, turns the monitor off, and rushes over to the door. “Hey,” she breathes, stepping outside. “You’re here.”
I chuckle, eyeing her ass as she bends down to lock up. What a flawless figure. Perfect curves and baby-making hips. I’m already getting hard, and she’s basically fully clothed. “I’m here,” I reply. “You think I wouldn’t be?”
She shakes her head, taking a breath as she brushes a strand of hair from her face. “I just thought I’d have a little time to get ready so I didn’t look like I just crawled out from under a bike.”
“I like that you look like that,” I reply, moving right in on her, wrapping a rough hand around her slim waist. “I just hopped off one. It’s a match made in heaven.”
My fingers caress her soft curve, and fuck, she feels so perfect to my touch. She shivers, barely enough to notice, but she doesn’t move away. At least, not at first. Her lips part like she wants to speak, or maybe like she’s begging to be kissed.
But just as my grip tightens, she pulls back.
Not quickly. Just a soft, tentative retreat, like she doesn’t want to offend me. Like a voice in her head is telling her to take it slowly. She pats my chest awkwardly with her hands before dropping them to her sides. “We should go, don’t you think?” She smiles, her voice light but projecting an unspoken boundary. “We don’t want all the lanes to be taken.”