Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48700 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
I'm falling for him. Regardless of his past or what he's done or who he was, the man he is now is slowly claiming every piece of my soul. And I'm fucking terrified that, no matter what he's done, it won't be enough to keep me from giving him every single piece of myself. He could destroy me entirely. And I'm halfway to letting him do it. Willingly.
"Your shift is almost over. Have dinner with me," he says, his voice confident but not demanding. "And I'll tell you."
I glance at the clock, realizing that he's right. My shift ends in half an hour. But I hesitate anyway, my chest tightening with anxiety.
This is the point of no return for us. If I allow myself to get closer to him, there will be no guarding my heart against him. He'll own me, every single piece.
"Kylie," he whispers, his eyes locked on mine. He cups my cheek, brushing his thumb along my lip, sending waves of heat crashing through me.
Who am I trying to kid? We reached the point of no return days ago. He's already under my skin, embedded so deeply I can't forget him. I can't withstand or deny him.
It's too late to deny it now. I'm his. Body and soul, I'm his.
"Alright," I breathe, barely audible. "I'll have dinner with you."
Chapter Seven
Memphis
"Your bike is ridiculous, Memphis," Kylie complains, eyeing my Harley like it's a caged beast ready to pounce as we stand in the private garage attached to the bar. "It was built for a giant. I'm not a giant."
I can't help but chuckle at the look on her face. She's fucking cute when she's nervous. Not that I can blame her in this case. My bike is a fucking beast. The chrome and black Harley was custom built for a motherfucker my size, not for a girl her size.
"Get your cute ass on," I tell her anyway, plunking a helmet down on her head. It's way too big for her, but damn if she doesn't look sexy as hell wearing my shit anyway.
"Really, Memphis? I knew you had a big head, but this thing is enormous," she grumbles, clearly unimpressed.
"You haven't even seen my enormous head, Toto. Quit bitching and get your cute ass on the bike."
She huffs at me, but steps forward reluctantly. I offer her a hand to help her on the bike. She hesitates for a moment before slipping her hand into mine. I hold her steady as she swings a leg over, allowing me to help her slide onto the leather seat.
Once she's settled, I hop on in front of her and feel her wrap her arms around me, holding tight. Her hands are dangerously close to my cock, and I have to stifle a groan. I can't even lie, though. She's soft and cuddly as fuck—the perfect little backpack.
I rev the bike and take off, making her squeal and cling to me as if she's afraid I'm going to wreck this big bitch with her on the back. As if that will ever happen. I've been riding since I was a teenager. She's perfectly safe with me.
Within minutes, however, I feel her body relax against mine as we head toward my place. At one point, she even squeals with laughter. The sound sends a thrill through me that I didn't know I could feel anymore.
I decide to take the long way home, just to keep her close to me as long as possible.
Memories of the past still weigh heavily on my mind. I'm not sure why I brought them up to her. Actually, that's not true. I want her to know every single fucking part of me. It's been a long damn time since anyone has known me like that. Not even Riley and Cash know all my secrets. No one does.
But Kylie? I want her to know everything. Every dark corner and crowded crevice will be hers. She has a right to know what the fuck she's getting herself into. But goddamn, revisiting that shit isn't easy. I buried it for a reason, left the man I used to be in the past because there was no future in being him. There was just blood and pain and more fucking violence.
Everyone I cared about died in a spray of bullets, cut down by another MC in an attack we didn't see coming. I was the only survivor—luck of the draw because I wasn't at the clubhouse at the time. I was out making a goddamn drug run.
I made it back in time to watch my best friend take his last breath, and I couldn't stop it. I couldn't do anything but hold him in my arms as he gasped that he didn't want to fucking die.
Those words haunted me for a long time. They still do. I think they always will.