Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72822 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I was still residually sore. The doctor said it could take up to three months for the pain and weakness to go away completely.
“It’s like losing a limb. That doesn’t go away overnight.”
But I felt pretty good. Really, I did.
That’s why I nodded my head and said, “I’d love to.”
But once I got up to his side where he was straddling his bike, I didn’t know what to do from there.
And I covered my nervousness by chattering his ear off.
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. In fact, I’ve always wanted to ride one, but I’ve never known anyone that had one to ask them.”
Dante grunted, keeping his eyes forward, and I bit my lip and wondered if this was a good idea—placing my body up against his back.
I didn’t know how he’d react. I didn’t know if he’d be okay with me touching him after what had happened in there.
But the moment I placed my hands on his shoulder and swung my leg over, he seemed to relax.
The moment I placed my hands on his hips, he started to chuckle.
“Gonna need to get closer than that,” he murmured, circling his fingers around my wrists and tugging lightly on them.
I scooted forward until I was pressed to him, crotch to chest, and waited for what he’d do next.
He started the bike.
Shocker.
What was a shocker, though, was the fact that he took my hands and encircled them around his chest.
Once I had a hold of his shirt—because my arms couldn’t fit all the way around his broad chest—he let go.
I didn’t.
Not until we finished our ride, and wound up at some house off Caddo Lake.
Apparently, there was a motorcycle club—MC—that he knew there. They were having a party, and he’d been invited multiple times. He’d turned them down so much that he almost felt compelled to go to one. He didn’t tell me why he’d never gone, but I knew as soon as I arrived why he never went.
There were a lot of happy couples in attendance.
It was hard to see other people happy when you weren’t happy yourself. I knew that from experience.
But, for once, I didn’t feel so alone with Dante standing at my side.
Not when the club president, a man named Peek at our sides and expressed his happiness in seeing us there. Dante more than me.
Something passed between the two men as we grabbed ourselves a plate of food that was cold, but still good.
And I wouldn’t know until much later on in the night as we were saying goodbye to the MC, that Dante, according to quite a few women that introduced themselves, actually looked quite happy.
And that was because of me.
I didn’t believe them.
Not at all.
Chapter 18
You’re not done licking until she pushes you off.
-Words of wisdom
Cobie
“Stupid. So stupid.”
I groaned inwardly as I tried to remember why it would be a bad idea to call Dante, or maybe even text him, and ask him what he was doing.
I shouldn’t care about what he is doing! Really, I shouldn’t!
But I did.
I really, really cared.
So much, in fact, that when I was in the grocery store, I almost sent him a picture of the new Oreos. This time they were peanut butter and jelly flavored.
Very gross sounding. But did that stop me from buying the damn things?
No.
In fact, I bought two!
I was so distracted as I sat in my car, the package of Oreos in my lap, that I wasn’t paying attention to the man that pulled up next to the bridge until he’d already blocked my way out of the parking lot.
I watched from my spot as a man got out of the truck, walked over to the side of the bridge, and tossed the bag down.
I didn’t know what made me not go another way, nor did I know why I watched instead of sending that text. I couldn’t really tell you what pull that was practically urging me to go, but I went.
The minute he pulled away, I pulled up where his truck had previously been parked.
The moment it was in park, I got out, locked the door, and hurried down the steep embankment that led to the river below.
My eyes scanned the area, looking for the blue bag, and I winced when I saw it floating in the river about ten yards downstream from where I was standing, and about four yards out from the bank.
I’d have to get wet to go get that bag.
But the inexplicable pull was there, urging me forward despite my fear of the water.
I didn’t know why I had a fear of water. It wasn’t like I’d had a trauma related to water, but I’d never really liked it.
Not ever.
But I didn’t let it stop me from walking down the bank. And eventually wading into the water.
I was just glad I could see down to the bottom. I don’t think I could’ve been able to wade in without seeing what I was doing.