Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Master leaned down, his lips against Ambrie’s ear. “If I pick up my guitar, you aren’t going to turn warrior woman on me and annihilate half the room, are you?”
She couldn’t help but laugh as she turned her head so her lips brushed his, sending a little ripple of heat walking its fingers down her spine. “I might, but I’ll signal you first.”
He kissed her, his form of gentle that was mostly rough, his fingers bunched tight in her hair so that it pulled on her scalp, creating a little bite of pain, so hot it was scorching, so addicting she wanted to kiss him all night. The world faded away when Master kissed her, and she let it, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing her body into his. He felt safe and comforting. He felt like her refuge. Add to that hotter than hell and she couldn’t resist.
“Hey, you two,” Storm called. “You’re burning down the restaurant.”
A wadded-up napkin came flying across the table. Master caught it with one hand before it could hit the back of her head. The room erupted into laughter. Master left her while she covered her mouth with one hand, watching him take his guitar and join the others. Before long, most of Torpedo Ink were singing. Seychelle joined the band on the small stage. Rashad followed her.
Rashad’s band was extremely popular, playing sold-out concerts across the country. His voice was recognizable anywhere. Adam beamed at him and jumped up, dancing behind his chair. That gave the women the excuse to get up and dance as well.
The break had them all laughing and pouring a few drinks as Savage handed each of the band members a new song to play. “Here it is. Mechanic and Transporter say it’s a go, but we have to do it tonight. Can you get this recorded now?”
The band crowded close together and burst out laughing. Czar pushed his way into the group. “What has you all howling like hyenas?”
“The song. Savage is retaliating against Jackson, and Seychelle scribbled this little jingle for us to record tonight. His truck is in the body shop to be repaired. Some kid keyed it. You know how he loves that truck.”
“You did not key his truck,” Czar stated as he took the paper.
“No, that wasn’t us. Jackson caught the little monster. But it did create the opportunity. We’ve got to get this done tonight.”
Czar frowned as he read the lyrics.
“Read it out loud,” Blythe said.
“I didn’t have a lot of time,” Seychelle said. “Savage told me tonight.”
“Who is Jackson?” Rashad asked.
“He’s a deputy sheriff,” Ice explained. “Great sense of humor.”
Savage turned his killer stare on Ice.
Ice cleared his throat, although his eyes were laughing. “I mean, a really horrible bad sense of humor. He pranked Savage because he believed Savage pranked him.”
“Did you?” Rashad asked.
Savage shrugged. “I overheard some of the ladies asking questions about his birthday and they seemed upset. I may have given a suggestion to them, but if they took it seriously, I can hardly be blamed. He touched my bike. In a permanent way. I now have a sequined red hat welded onto my Night Rod special.”
“It’s really beautiful,” Seychelle said.
“Not sequins,” Ice corrected. “Those are real gems.”
Savage threw his arms in the air. “That makes all the fuckin’ difference in the world, doesn’t it?”
“Read the lyrics,” Rashad encouraged when the laughter had faded.
Czar cleared his throat again. “Okay, here goes.
I’m a legend of a lover
A man for undercover
A thirst trap in disguise
The women see me comin’
That silver truck of lovin’
That no one can deny
They need a red-hot hero
Not a poser or a zero
Deputy desire
You know I’m your live wire
Of fun . . .
Red Hot Jackson
Get your 911 of fun
And I’ll let you hold my gun
Because I’m . . .
Red Hot Jackson”
There was a small silence, and then the room erupted into laughter again. “Seychelle, you are brilliant. That’s exactly what I needed,” Savage said. He slung his arm around her neck and kissed her.
“It sounds great, but . . .” Czar continued to stare down at the paper. “What the hell is a thirst trap?”
The women burst out laughing. Rashad and Adam joined them. Czar glared at Blythe. Savage did the same to Seychelle.
“It’s something trendy on the internet,” Blythe said. “Someone posts a flirty, sexy picture with the intention of getting attention. They can look one way, say, all buttoned up tight, and then a second later not have a shirt on, revealing muscles and sexy abs. That’s a thirst trap.”
Seychelle nodded. The men continued to look blank. “Or, you know, when Savage is giving me one of his million lectures on me not eating right, but he’s slowly taking his shirt off, so I can’t hear a word he’s saying. I’m secretly recording him and then all those hot tattoos are revealed, and he moves and his muscles make them come alive and I put that on the internet, and everyone thinks he did it. That could constitute a thirst trap, couldn’t it, Blythe?”