Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Brett always hated Throttle. The bar was “a death trap,” he said. “Not our kind of place,” he said. Brett swore he would never go there, “even if they paid me.” His declaration was the strongest endorsement any bar could get as far as I was concerned.
I pulled into the parking lot across from Throttle. I wrapped a sweater over my shoulders to protect me from the late fall chill, locked my door behind me, and walked out to the street. The night was cool and crisp, filling me with exhilaration. I lifted my chin and crossed the street with my shoulders back.
The bar seemed to vibrate with music, even from the outside. The door was battered but seemed sturdy enough. The bass hit me in the chest the second I opened the door. And the place was packed. People laughed and yelled. A few danced while others played pool in the corner. A woman with swagger and a messy braid threw darts in the other corner of the room and, from the sound of things, was raking in some cash. The rather intimidating man hovering close by her guaranteed no one messed with her, but I got the feeling the woman could handle herself.
A haze of smoke hung over the bar. I made it five feet inside, and right there, leaning with his elbows on a railing like he owned the place, was Brett. He had a tall blonde woman mashed to his side with his arm around her slim torso. She tipped her head up to him, laughing like she was the happiest person in the world. She wore a pale yellow dress, and it probably cost more than a week of my groceries. She batted her lashes up at Brett like he was the prize, and from where I was standing, he really had sold her the suggestion.
He saw me as I signaled the bartender. His smirk set my teeth on edge. When he turned his attention back to the blonde in his arms, I rolled my eyes and smiled at the bartender when he brought me a bottle of Bud Light. Brett pulled the girl closer to him and leaned in to whisper something in her ear that made her giggle. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.
Before I looked away, Brett met my gaze as he kissed the woman in his arms and winked at me. Actually fucking winked at me. Fine. If he wanted to make a show of this, I could top him, because I was tired of jumping every time this bastard said hop.
I turned away from the bar to scan the crowd. I wanted muscle and trouble and a man who could intimidate Brett with a thought. I wanted a man Brett could never touch, someone who looked like he could break necks for a living. As luck would have it, I found him not far away at the end of the bar, a hulking shadow in a black T-shirt. His arms were scarred with a combination of what looked like burn scars and small cuts. Tattoos covered some of them, weaving the silvery tissue into works of art.
What struck me most was the guy’s expression. He looked from me, down the bar and back, a look of concentration on his face, like he could sense the trap but hadn’t decided if he wanted to evade it or simply let nature take its course. He radiated calm, like nothing could touch him, and if something did, he’d take care of it.
He sipped a club soda, which likely meant he was the designated driver. Or something. It honestly didn’t matter at this point. I was done being treated like I was… less. Was I taking a huge chance? Yes. Unfortunately, I was beyond sound reasoning.
I angled myself toward him, throwing back my shoulders to show my cleavage to its best advantage, and closed the distance between me and the rough-looking guy. I leaned my hip against the bar in front of him. He looked down, his gaze narrowing on me, again, sensing a trap.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” I tried to keep my voice light and breezy. “I thought you’d left me alone on my birthday.”
He stared at me for a beat. His gaze flicked behind me, straight to where I knew Brett still stood with his new woman. Then back to my face. I knew I was busted when he glanced at my throat where my pulse hammered. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
Instead, he hooked one massive arm around my waist and guided me to the table next to us. Sitting with his back to the wall, he pulled me onto his lap like that was the plan the entire time, and there was no version of the world where I’d ever get away from him. My dress rode up, exposing a fair amount of thigh that his rough hand found and trailed upward from my knee to the hem of my dress. Curiously, he didn’t try to go further.