Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
He was still mostly in shadow, illuminated a bit by the dim red brake lights, giving him an eerie - and therefore sexy, at least in my book - glow.
"Baby, get the fuck back in your car," a voice called to me as I rounded the back of my car. It was one of those voices too - all sex and whiskey. Which, yes, if you were wondering, totally was a way a voice could sound. "You don't pull over for random guys on a back road."
"Hm," I said as I closed half the distance between us. "And yet here I am."
Crap.
He was good-looking too.
Like, really good-looking.
Tall and slim, but fit, with a shitton of ink, chiseled features that gave him cheekbone hollows that reminded me of my beloved sexual-awakening-causing James Marsters - Spike from Buffy. I couldn't make out his eyes, but they seemed light in the darkness.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, seeming more worried about my safety than his clearly broken down bike in the middle of the night.
"Oh, me? I was just wandering around the woods in my slutdress, seeing if I could find a big, burly mountain man to drag me back to his dungeon by my hair and do awful things to me."
His brows drew together at that, watching me like I made no sense for a long moment before shaking his head. "The fucked up part is you sound serious."
"I have wet dreams about dungeon torture," I admitted, taking a sick sort of pleasure in watching a mix of confusion and disgust cross over his stupidly attractive features.
"Wet dreams, huh?" he asked, deciding to focus on the more appealing part of my declaration, his lips tipping up sexily to one side.
And me, well, I never backed down first. "Soaking wet," I told him, feeling my belly swirl deliciously at the strange rumbling growl noise he made in response. "Are you stranded?" I asked, looking around in both directions, not seeing a headlight anywhere.
"Yep," he agreed, nodding.
"Did you call someone?"
"Nope."
"And I'm the dumb one?" I asked, rolling my eyes.
"My phone is charging in my buddy's SUV. We got split up on the way back home."
"This buddy, is he hot? Wait, no. Don't tell me. Just let me have my man-candy threesome in my head."
"You're a fucking trip," he said, very matter-of-factly.
"Well, I would offer you my phone, but my friend has it on him. It's likely getting covered in unspeakable bodily fluids this very AsWeSpeakEnd."
"Unspeakable bodily fluids?"
"If my plan goes to, well, plan, he is getting it up the ass good and hard right now, so he stops bitching about how his ex broke his heart. And while I don't know a whole helluva lot about gay sex, I imagine it is considered good manners that the guy buried in your ass gives you a reach around. Which means unspeakable bodily fluids going all over."
"Jesus Christ," the guy said, reaching to run a hand up the back of his neck as he shook his head.
"Where are you heading?"
"Navesink Bank."
"No shit!" I said, feeling the smile spreading, threatening to split my face. "So you're not some Sons of Anarchy wannabe? Some weekend warrior? You're a fucking Henchmen! Right? Tell me I'm right."
"You're right."
"I knew it! I know some of your brothers. Well, mostly in passing. But I know of them. My sisters-in-law are like, I don't know, allies or some shit with Reign and the club. Where is your cut?" I asked, noticing he was in simple jeans and a black tee.
"We're laying a bit low when we're on the roads these days."
"Oh, mysterious. Is someone trying to pick you guys off?" I asked, knowing my voice wasn't supposed to sound excited at the idea, though it totally did.
"Pick us off?" he asked, his lips twitching.
"Pick you off. Bust caps in your very fine asses."
"Who the fuck are you?" he asked suddenly, the words bursting out like they couldn't be contained anymore.
"Peyton Reid, at your service," I told him, doing a little curtsy because, well, the moment needed one.
"Not ringing a bell."
Were we back in high school, I would have been offended by that. I went out of my way to make sure I was known, even if - according to the adults - I was making myself known for the 'wrong things.'
"Little sister to Autumn Reid, owner of all the smutty goodness of Phallus-opy. And also the wife of the one and only Eli."
"Mallick," he said immediately, body getting just a tad less relaxed.
"Yes, Mallick. As in the son of Charlie and Helen, who host the best parties in the world. And brother to Ryan, Hunter, Mark, and Shane."
"So that's why you stopped," he said, this time making my brows draw together.
"What do you mean?"
"Because you know that no one can touch you."