Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
His grin gets bigger. “Challenge accepted. Get on the bike.”
I glance at the bikers and their girls watching me once more, and then I get on the bike. I try to scoot back as far as I can so I’m not wrapped around the big biker in front of me, but it’s nearly impossible. Especially when he leans back and grabs my knee, sliding me forward with little to no effort.
“You want to die before we get there, stay back on the side. You want to live, stop bein’ a fuckin’ baby and scoot closer.”
I make a growling sound and scoot closer. Now my legs are spread right around him, and my intimate parts are pressed against him. God. My cheeks burn with frustration and a little shame. Fucking bikers.
Koda slaps my knee, no doubt in a victorious kind of way.
“Touch me again,” I growl, “and I’ll chop your fingers off.”
Maverick, who is standing next to the bike, lets out a booming laugh. “Should have a fantastic time then, Dakoda.”
Koda shoots him a look so icy it makes me shuffle back just a smidge. Maverick is unfazed by it.
Koda hates his name.
I make a note to call him by it at least ten times daily.
“Cabin is stocked, everythin’ you need is there, includin’ weapons and your laptop. Need anythin’, call,” Malakai tells Koda. “You good, brother?”
Koda nods. “Got this.”
“Don’t kill the girl, yeah?” he grins.
Koda grunts. “Can’t promise that.”
“Jerk,” I mutter under my breath, and then pull on the helmet Scarlett hands me.
Then we’re off.
Things are about to get interesting.
-2-
NOW – KODA
Fucking. Woman.
Fucking painful, stubborn ass woman.
I watch her backside as she walks, or rather, storms in front of me up the small, overgrown trail leading to the cabin Malakai owns in the mountains. If it weren’t for the fact that her ass looks fucking incredible in the tight blue jeans she’s wearing, I’d have probably done away with her by now.
Mouthy little shit.
She stops suddenly and turns around, glancing at me with those green eyes that would make any man’s dick hard. I don’t usually go for red heads, but for this one, I think any man would convert. She’s got the kind of hair that is as wild as her personality—deep red, thick, fucking long. Her eyes, though. Emerald green. Framed by thick lashes. Full lips. Button nose. Skin so soft and creamy white it looks almost fake. Aside from a few left-over cuts and bruises from her time with Treyton, her skin is flawless.
Perfection.
With a filthy damned attitude.
Arms cross over her perky little tits. I don’t hide the fact that I drag my eyes over them before finally connecting with hers once more.
“God. Men,” she huffs, chest rising and falling in a soft, deep pant from the walk.
“Anyone would think you’re out of shape, Charlie,” I point out to her. “The way you’re puffin’ and pantin’.”
She frowns then glares. “Anyone would think you have forgotten I spent a long time in Treyton’s hands, so I’m not fully up to scratch yet, Dakoda.”
“Call me Dakoda one more fuckin’ time and see what happens.”
She steps forward, leaning in, arms still crossed over her chest. “Give it your best shot, Dakoda.”
Anger bubbles in my chest, and I step forward; she flinches and steps back, but she’s too slow. Her mouth has pissed me off one too many times in the last hour. I take hold of her arm, spinning her around so quickly she nearly loses her footing. She tries to fight it, no doubt, but I’m used to taking grown men down. She’s got nothing on that.
I hold both her tiny wrists in one of my big hands and pull her close so her back is nearly touching my chest, her arms wedged behind her, between us. Then I pull off the bandana I was wearing beneath my helmet for the ride and use my free hand to bring it around and pull it to her mouth. She curses and squirms, but she’s no match for me. Not even close.
I release her wrists and she flails around. I need both hands to tie her. I tighten the bandana around the back of her head so it’s across her mouth, restricting her speech. She manages a few punches and a few kicks, but I’m unfazed. Violence, pain—it’s nothing to me. I catch one of her flailing hands and twist it behind her back, making her wince. It isn’t hard, but it’s enough to stop her carrying on.
Then I lean in to her ear. “I told you not to test me, woman. I wasn’t jokin’. Now, you learn to shut that pretty mouth of yours, I’ll take the bandana off, if not, I’ll tie you somewhere in that cabin until you can learn some manners.”
I don’t miss the muffled, mumbled curse words she tries to spit at me through the bandana. Shrugging, I push her forward. She protests for a few moments, but when she nearly trips over her own feet, she realizes it’s better to walk than to have me push her over. So, she puts one foot in front of the other and walks. Me following behind her, keeping her hand behind her back.