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)
My internal pep talk falters as he emerges from behind the bar, crossing toward me with the easy grace of a freaking panther on the prowl. He slides into the booth across from me, his thick, denim-clad thigh bumping against mine as his addictive scent swirls around me.
"So, you weren't just a figment of my imagination," he drawls, his deep voice washing over me as he throws one arm over the back, sprawling out. His massive frame takes up half the bench. "I was sure I dreamed your sassy ass."
"Huh," I mutter, placing my book on the table in front of me. "Interesting."
"What?"
"You were dreaming about my ass. I was dreaming about riding dragons." I bat my lashes at him, my expression level. "Clearly, we are not the same."
A slow, easy smile spreads across his face, his gorgeous eyes lighting up. "If it's power you want between your thighs, princess, just say the word."
"I'll stick to dragons, thanks." I roll my eyes at him again. "At least they fly. You, on the other hand…"
"Oh, I'll make you fly." He winks at me, reaching out to touch my hand. Electricity sparks where his calloused fingers meet my skin, singing through my veins. "So high, you'll get dizzy, baby."
"Right." I slip my hand out from beneath his, refusing to let him rattle me. "I bet you say that to all the girls, don't you?"
"Memphis!" Jessup shouts from the bar before he can answer. "Priest is on the phone."
Priest? The man has a priest?
He hesitates for a long moment, his eyes flickering over my face. And then he curses beneath his breath and slides from the booth. Instead of heading for the bar, he leans down over me, getting in my personal space.
I bite my lip, fighting a whimper as his intoxicating scent clouds my mind. Good lord, he smells like sex and sin.
"I've said it to one girl," he growls, his eyes locked on mine. "The mouthy fuckin' minx reading in the back of my goddamn bar every night, princess."
I swallow convulsively, my heart pounding.
He touches my cheek, smirks, and then strides away, leaving me gaping after him. I'm not sure if he meant it or not, but… who am I kidding? He meant it. I'm just not entirely sure I believe him.
Memphis Hughes may not know who I am, but I know exactly who he is. For years when I was a little girl, he and my brother were thick as thieves. They were in an MC together back home in Memphis. He was dangerous then, and he's just as dangerous now.
What happened to my brother and their MC is proof of that. Twelve years ago, everyone in their club was murdered.
Everyone except Memphis.
He didn't show up to Jayson's funeral. He never showed up to offer his condolences. He simply disappeared. No one knew where he was or what happened to him until he reappeared five years ago, playing drums for Cami and Bentley Reynolds. Now, he's one of the most famous musicians in the world. But I don't care about that.
People back home say he sold the MC out to their enemies—that he's the reason my brother is dead. I don't know if that's true or not, but he has answers that I want. A leopard doesn't change his spots. And Memphis Hughes can smirk and flirt all he wants, but it doesn't make him any less dangerous.
A waitress slams a bottle of Coke down on the table, making me jump. "From Memphis," she snaps, jutting her chin toward him.
I glance over to find his intense cobalt blue eyes fixed on me from behind the bar, that damn smirk playing on his lips again.
Heat rises to my cheeks, an involuntary reaction.
The waitress follows my gaze, her face dropping into a scowl when she catches Memphis staring at me, the bar phone clutched to his ear. She looks back at me, her icy blue eyes narrowed as she leans down as if she needs to tell me something. "I wouldn't waste my time trying to fuck him if I were you. He's not interested in fat girls. He just likes the money you spend here."
My mouth drops open as I stare at her. She's gorgeous in a way that I would have been jealous of just a few years ago—long blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, a body women starve themselves for.
I've been curvy my whole life. In high school, girls like her made my life hell because of it. I've since realized that it was never about my size. They were vicious because they were just as insecure as I was.
I guess some things don't change. Because this girl is mad as hell that Memphis is staring at me and not at her. As a matter of fact, in the time I've been here, the only time he's looked at her has been when she's been in his face, forcing him to deal with her. The rest of the time, he doesn't even know she exists. Meanwhile, I just want to observe from the shadows, and he's all up in my business.