Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105813 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
This was attraction. That was all. Long, pent-up, sexual attraction.
Ding.
The doors opened, but before I fell through, he hooked an arm around my waist and backed me in. I didn’t fight him, way too curious about what he’d do next. And stupid. I should have my head checked.
The garage elevator never had an attendant, and the lift was empty. The doors shut, the walls closed in, and my pulse spiked. Christ, it was a small space, and he was so very not small, crowding the tiny enclosure and hijacking the air.
He hadn’t looked this big on his bike. Not that he was body-builder big, but his shoulders mantled mine, and his torso curtained my vision. Strong, too, given the unmovable arm around my waist. Time to flip out.
I’d rather climb his tall, dark, and deadly frame and hump it like an animal. I bit my lip. Real classy, Kaci. My mother would be so proud.
He released my waist and removed a metal card from his pocket. Without the arm lock, I still felt restrained, pressed into the corner of the lift by his mere presence. Probably a good time for a reality check.
I closed my eyes, envisioning my usual elevator rides. Cold, empty, unfulfilled journeys to nowhere. When I glanced up, the man I’d mentally fucked for nine months was still there, in the flesh, staring down at me.
Dark and motionless. Goddamned unnerving.
Hard to breathe.
Still staring.
My chest constricted.
Tighter.
No air.
Shit.
“Why did you follow me?” Good lord, that came out breathy.
“We weren’t done.” He pivoted to face the panel of buttons.
Wow. Okay, that sounded delectably elusive, full of promise while telling me absolutely nothing. And what was he doing with that metal card? Wait. Important questions first. “Are you gay?” Because really, the odds had not been kind to me.
He lowered his hand and glanced back at me. “Are you?” He returned to the panel. “I can work with that if your girlfriend has an ass like yours.”
Such a pervy, straight-guy response. My reckless heart rejoiced. “Married?”
His body froze from shoulders to shit-kickers. Uh oh. “If I were married,” he bit out without turning around, “I would be at home, fucking my wife.”
I frowned. My God, he was offended. The way he’d said it—fucking my wife—shoved a familiar ache against my ribs, the one that starved for his brand of aggressive, protective, fierce devotion. And sexual attraction. Damn him.
“What about you?” he asked. “Married?”
“No.” Not in the intimate way, which was the only way that concerned him. It wasn’t like this encounter would lead to dates at the opera and Christmas dinner with the family.
A rasp billowed through his helmet. “What’s your deal with the races? You get off on bikers attacking you in dark alleys?”
I didn’t like his accusing tone and didn’t hide the snark in mine. “Nah. It’s just a complicated farce to explain my choice of evening wear.” I gestured to my helmet and leathers, not that he was looking at me.
His head dipped toward the panel, revealing the tanned skin of his nape. My gaze followed the strong column of his neck to the shock of hair peeking out of his helmet. It was longer than a buzz cut but didn’t reach his hairline. A shade between light brown and blond, the ends glinted with copper hues. Stunning.
Soundlessly, I stretched out a hand to brush my fingers against the strands, but before I made contact, his visor swiveled to look at me. Interesting.
Leaning around his broad frame, I watched him shove the metal card in and out of the card slot. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but this building has top-notch security.”
Could he lock down the elevator with that thing? To keep us from being interrupted? Or was he trying to go up? He’d need my card to do that.
A foolish flutter took flight in my stomach. He’d followed me. He was clearly doing something to the elevator. Why wasn’t I freaking out about this?
His hips shifted, and leather creased around the flex of his butt, outlining hard handfuls of muscle. I shouldn’t have stared, it was rude, but I was spellbound. I loved the way his pants contoured his ass, embodying every fantasy I’d ever had. He only had to stand there, all tall and muscular and arrogant enough to keep his back to me, knowing I had a gun.
I liked the view so much I couldn’t tear my eyes away. My fingers tingled.
“Are you staring at my ass?”
Jesus, did he have eyes in the back of his head? “What else am I going to look at?”
Abandoning the card slot, he turned and leaned his back against the wall. His wide stance and the lounge of his upper body tilted his pelvis just right. Leather molded around the raised ridge of his cock and strained to contain the brawn of his thighs.