Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I like it.
Me and my addictive personality.
“How long are you goin’ to drink until you realize you’re not winnin’ this?” Mex asks, taking another sip.
I shrug, reaching for the bottle and sliding it toward me. “You’ll pass out eventually.”
“Never passed out in my life.”
Well damn, that is impressive.
“There’s a first time for everything,” I point out with a grin.
“I’ve got a better idea. Make this a little more fun. You start askin’ questions and throwin’ out answers you think are correct, if you get the right answer, I’ll take a drink. Same goes for you.”
I smirk. “I love a good drinking game. I’ll go first. How old are you? I’m guessing thirty-two.”
He doesn’t move.
“Hmmm. Thirty-five?”
No movement.
“Thirty-eight?”
He takes a shot.
“Well damn, you’re old!”
He scowls at me.
“My turn,” his voice is gruff. “How old are you? I’m guessin’ twenty-five.”
I roll my eyes. “Now you’re flattering me.”
He tips his head to the side. “Twenty-seven.”
I take a shot. “Spot on, biker.”
I ponder my next question. “How long have you been part of the club? Let me guess, since you were eighteen?”
He doesn’t drink.
“It wouldn’t be younger,” I say out loud. “Okay, somewhere in your twenties?”
He takes a drink.
“Interesting,” I murmur.
“Tell me about your family,” he goes on. “How many people are in it? I’m guessin’ ... four.”
I snort.
“Okay.” He studies me. “Two.”
“That really depends on what you consider family ...”
“Someone that shares your blood is family.”
In that case, I guess it is just me, and my mom.
I don’t drink.
“Three,” he goes on.
I wait.
He narrows his eyes. “It’s not possible for it to be any less, considerin’ it takes two to make a child.”
“My father is dead, he doesn’t count,” I shrug.
“So, it’s just you and your mother?”
“Ding ding ding!” I say, taking a shot.
He scowls at me.
It’s hot.
Now, it’s my turn for another question. Hmmm, let’s get this a little deeper.
“What does your biker club want with Marek? Did he do you dirty?”
He doesn’t drink.
“Did he take away business?”
Nothing.
“Oh, let me guess, you’re trying to stop him and his little mission?”
He drinks.
Interesting. The biker club wants to stop Marek, not work with him or for him. That’s a first. I mean, I’m certain there are people out there who do want to stop Marek, but none of them would dare. I wonder if the biker club knows exactly who they’re planning on taking on? Surely they’ve heard how dangerous he is? Even they don’t have what it takes to stop someone like Marek.
“Well, that isn’t the road I saw that going down,” I mutter.
“How do you know Marek?” Mex goes on, not skipping a beat. “Do you work for him?”
I don’t drink.
“Does your mother work for him?”
I mean, technically, no. She doesn’t work for anyone; she works with people. Nobody comes above her.
“Rephrase. Does your mother work with him?”
“No rephrase,” I say. “I’m not answering that question now.”
“Answer it,” he orders.
“Oh, authoritative. While that turns me on, I’m afraid you’ll find that it won’t get me to listen. I rarely do as I’m told.”
Standing, Mex leans over the table, getting in my face. I hold his eyes, my heart racing. His breath smells like vodka, and man, and fuck I’m horny. So damned horny it gives me an idea.
“I’ve got an idea,” I say, my eyes scanning his face as I bite my bottom lip.
“Don’t want your fuckin’ ideas,” he grunts. “I want answers.”
“Oh, you’ll get answers. You see, it has been a while since I’ve had sex. Good sex, sex that blows my mind. You, I imagine, would give good sex. So, here’s how it’s going to go, for every orgasm you give me, I’ll answer one question.”
His eyes flash.
I don’t flinch.
“You’re serious?”
“Dead,” I mutter.
“You want me to fuck you?”
I grin. “Oh, yes indeed.”
He pushes off the table and straightens to his full height, making my arm stretch up as he does, staring down at me with an expression that makes me weak at the knees. Oh, do I want him to do wicked things to me. I hope he takes me up on my offer. I never promised to tell him the truth when he asks questions, but those are minor details.
“Stand up,” he orders.
I push to my feet and stand in front of him. He reaches out, gripping my chin in his hand and tipping my head back. I gasp, heat rushing through my body. “If I fuck you, it means nothin’. You get me?”
“I wasn’t asking for your hand in marriage,” I whisper.
He releases my chin just as the sound of a phone ringing in his bag rips through the intense moment. With a frustrated growl, he pulls the key out of his pocket for the cuffs. With a dramatic eye roll, I say, “Seriously? That’s where you had it. I thought you said I’d never find it.”
He glares at me. “Your hands would never come near my body without permission, so I stand by it. You wouldn’t find them.”