Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 233(@200wpm)___ 186(@250wpm)___ 155(@300wpm)
Our president was in one of the back booths with his old lady, Savannah, tucked close. To most men, the tiny sleeping baby against Kane’s chest would have ruined some of the intimidation, but he’d built his reputation so definitively that his name became synonymous with fear and respect. It was the reason he didn’t have a separate road name. People already knew who the hell he was and exactly how fucking lethal it would be to fuck with him or anyone he cared about.
His brother, and our VP, stood nearby with one arm around his wife, Callie. He looked relaxed in the way that meant at least three different knives were still within reach.
They chatted with Raze and Shifter. Gauge was cozied up with Riley, the woman he’d recently claimed, who gave me a run for my money when it came to talent with a racing machine. And Nitro and his wife, Jana, who was a seriously talented driver, were arguing over lap times near the pool tables, which meant they’d either end up betting on something stupid or disappearing somewhere private before the night was over.
More patches hung around, along with some locals and a face or two I didn’t recognize. As I made my way through the crowd toward the bar, I accepted chin lifts, shoulder bumps, and a couple of dry comments from brothers who were as sentimental as one of us got over a win.
I was halfway to the bar when I saw her.
At first, all I caught was the profile and the fall of dark hair. My good mood disappeared so fast it left a clean burn behind. The drunk, pushy pain in my ass from the night before had apparently decided getting escorted out once wasn’t enough embarrassment. She had some nerve coming back into The Burnout after the stunt she’d pulled. She sat alone at the far end, angled slightly away from the room, one hand resting near a glass of something clear. Probably vodka that she hoped would masquerade as water.
My jaw locked as I changed direction.
The crowd thinned in front of me, or people had enough sense to move when they saw my face. Fury wasn’t behind the counter tonight, which explained how she’d made it inside without getting turned away at the door. He had business elsewhere, and Rea was handling the bar with two prospects floating near the back, which meant nobody had recognized the problem before it sat down and got comfortable.
I stalked up beside her, already deciding this time I’d handle the problem myself.
“You again?” I demanded, my voice hard enough that Rea’s head snapped up. “Did getting thrown out last night not make the message clear?”
She turned her head, and attraction punched through my chest, dropping straight into my cock before I had time to stop it. My body reacted like it had been waiting for her, going hard in a violent rush that made my hands fist at my sides.
What the fuck?
Her face looked the same, but somehow sweeter. Her hazel-green eyes were clear and sober. Soft as they caught the bar light with a depth that hadn’t been there last night. Her posture wasn’t sloppy or desperate. She looked up at me like she had every right to take up space, and every cell in my body decided that space should be against me.
Fuck.
My gaze dragged over her before I could stop it. She wore clothes over sexy curves that weren’t trying as hard and somehow hit ten times harder.
I’d been fucking repelled by this face less than twenty-four hours ago, and now my body was reacting like I’d found the one woman in the room worth burning the place down for. The contradiction pissed me the fuck off.
My cock pressed hard against my jeans, and I hated that too.
I didn’t understand how she could suddenly look like temptation wrapped in sweetness.
My pulse beat heavier at the base of my throat as my gaze snagged on the curve of her plump lips and the faint flicker of surprise in her pretty, hazel-green eyes. For one dangerous second, my mind supplied an image of wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, dragging that mouth under mine, and finding out if she tasted as sweet as she looked.
The thought came hot and unwanted, and I shoved it down with the same discipline I used when a machine tried to buck under me at a dangerous speed.
Something was different.
A thread of instinct refusing to be ignored kept cutting through the heat and anger. The face might have been the same, but the energy wasn’t. Last night had been all noise and sloppy aggression. Now she looked startled, then annoyed, her body going still in a way that suggested I’d just insulted her rather than caught her doing something she already knew she deserved to answer for.