Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Colby’s grip on my chin tightened just a little, and his eyes narrowed. “Still got the taste of your pussy on my tongue, Sariah. Seems I’m at liberty to give orders that’ll keep you alive.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to let me know this was some kind of sick joke. He didn’t.
I wrestled out of his grip, folding my arms and glaring at him. “Newsflash, buddy, whether or not you’ve tasted my pussy does not give you permission to order me around. And that right there.” I pointed to him. “Is why you’ll never be tasting it again.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”
This time his cheeky, cocky grin did nothing for me. “I do think so. And I think I’ll be making sure that I’m the one to catch the depraved serial killer who almost ended my friend,” I added, surprising myself that I’d suddenly decided to catch a killer. It was a little much, even for me. But I didn’t do takebacks, that would make me look weak. So I was committed.
“Do not get involved in this, Sariah,” Colby barked, eyes dark and intent on me. They were filled with desire, but his tone was saturated in warning. “I’m fuckin’ serious. This shit is dangerous.”
I gritted my teeth against my own need mingling with irritation that he wasn’t going to let this go.
I tilted my head, scrutinizing him. “Oh, you don’t think I know that a serial killer with a body count in double digits is dangerous?” My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”
Colby’s jaw flexed.
“Careful. You may dislocate that jaw with all that clenching.”
“I’m well aware of how intelligent you are,” Colby bit out. “But I’m also well aware that you’re reckless, you’re loyal as fuck to your best friend and you are angry. Angry enough to think you’re invincible. To think that this shit can’t touch you. But it can. And I’m not having this shit touch you.”
Though I maintained my angry expression, his words hit me somewhere deep. Made me feel something. Like I was something.
“It is not up to you whether this shit touches me or not,” I balked.
He stepped forward. “Yes, Sariah, it is. Because you’re mine.”
I jolted like he’d hit me square in the chest. Honestly that would’ve been preferable to what he’d just said.
Moments rushed by as I was struck speechless, and his eyes burned into mine with a promise.
I swallowed glass, finding my words and my shields once more. “I’m not yours, Colby,” I forced an icy tone. “And I never fucking will be.”
This time when I turned and walked away, he didn’t stop me.
CHAPTER
FIVE
I was back at the apartment I’d rented when I decided I wanted to be in Garnett at least part time. Although I loved staying with Swiss and Kate, and they had plenty of room, they were still firmly in the honeymoon stage, and I did not want to cramp their style.
Also, constantly witnessing how epic it looked being married to an outlaw biker was a little dangerous to me. Far too tempting.
Hence the apartment. There wasn’t a whole bunch of stuff here yet, but what was here was badass.
An off-white sofa that looked and felt like a cloud. Black marble slab coffee table. A whole bunch of candles in the out of service fireplace.
The apartment itself was only a couple of rooms. The kitchen and dining area were open plan. Kitchen to the right when you walked in, large living area straight ahead with a small balcony that opened onto Main Street. There was a small but fancy tiled bathroom off the living room, showing my landlord had gone to a lot of effort and expense redoing this historic space while giving it a modern feel.
My bedroom was large too, another small balcony and an en suite with a large tub that sold me on the place. The realtor kept talking about the kitchen appliances, but the tub and the bedroom had already convinced me. The only appliance I needed was the fridge to store my booze.
My bedroom setup was most important, considering it was my moneymaker.
People—men—didn’t think that they cared about the décor when a woman in lingerie was heeding their commands, but environment made a huge difference.
I didn’t go with the cliché reds and passionate color scheme. Everything in my bedroom was shades of white and beige. Soft. Comfortable. Lamps casting a low glow. A safe place, not only for my clients but for me too when I turned the camera off.
I might’ve lived my life loud, wore a bunch of color and pretty much seemed like the party girl who thrived on chaos, but I needed a little peace. A sanctuary.
And booze.
A lot of it.
Especially after what happened today.
I drained my drink. How fucked-up was it to almost have sex with a guy you’ve been lusting after in an empty hospital room? Especially when you were in that hospital because your pregnant best friend was almost murdered. By a serial killer. The one you’ve been low key obsessed with for months.