Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
His gaze was steady, unblinking.
Not a drunken glance or a casual once over. No, he locked in on me and I felt the heat through every inch of my body.
I broke eye contact first. But I could still feel the weight of him.
The music shifted rolling into something slower. The bodies on the makeshift dance floor adjusted instantly, hips swaying in time, arms around necks and shoulders, hair whipping, and people completely relaxed into one another.
I pushed off the wall, trying to disappear into motion. I made my way toward the bar, telling myself I would help Trinity by clearing some empty glasses. A tray gave me something to hold, something to focus on and pass the time. If my hands were busy, maybe my nerves would settle.
It worked for all about two minutes. Jonesy sent me down this hallway to get a bottle of bourbon from the back. I had gathered a few glasses along the way. In the darkness of the hall I stumbled just a bit. My fall was broken when my tray jammed into the back of a man.
A rock solid wall of steel build of a man. One with a woman half draped onto him.
The splash of liquid sloshed from the glasses before I could right myself.
I turned. Frozen in place, all I could think was, it was him.
I had already bumped into him once before tonight. Why me? Why was my luck so bad?
Up close he was larger than I realized. The fabric of his shirt seemed strained across his shoulders and chest. His mouth was unsmiling and unamused but his eyes, they locked on mine like I had stepped into his lane or stolen his puppy. Although I didn’t think bikers were necessarily smitten over a puppy or anything for that matter.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
The growl that rolled out of him silenced me. Low, dangerous. I felt it more than I actually heard him. “Why are you carryin’ a tray like you belong?” His voice was deep, rough even. Every word was deliberate.
I swallowed, “I was just trying to be helpful while I waited for my cousin.”
His gaze dropped, slow, like he was measuring me from top to bottom. When his eyes returned back to mine, they were darker. “Only one way to be helpful around here, darlin’. Spread your legs or leave. Unless you plan on joinin’ us or takin’ her place in my bed tonight…,” he tilted his head to the woman clinging to him. “Watch where the fuck you’re headed.”
My jaw dropped but before I could say anything, his play thing smirked.
“She couldn’t handle me, Thrasher, much less your big cock.”
Heat flared in my chest. Sharp and reckless, I couldn’t stop my reaction. “Or maybe you just couldn’t handle me, bitch.”
The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly—the ghost of a smirk—and my stomach dropped in a way that scared me more than his growl.
I stepped back, the tray still clutched to my chest, and disappeared into the crowd. My pulse was pounding, my cheeks were hot. I told myself it was fear, but that wasn’t the truth. No, I was turned on like I had never been before.
Walking away while trying not to look like I was running, I found Lyric near the back talking animatedly with a group of women. She had embraced this club bunny life as she called it. Her hair was loose, her smile easy. Tiny approached and she leaned into him like she belonged in the crook of his arm. I decided not to interrupt. I watched long enough to see her laugh at something one of the women said before I turned to get away.
It should have been enough to settle me. She was fine, safe even. I could leave. Except my feet wouldn’t take me to the door. No, they somehow kept landing me back into his line of sight.
Thrasher—the man whose real name I didn’t know—seemed to be everywhere at once. Leaning against the bar, head bent chatting with another brother. Standing in the corner, smoke curling from the cigar at his lips. Our eyes caught twice more that night.
Too long did we both hold one another’s gaze each time.
I had overheard pieces about him in passing from the ladies at work and the guys around here tonight.
Apparently, Thrasher, the Kings of Anarchy South Carolina president had quite a reputation.
One for violence.
Some of the things I had learned. He busted a guy’s jaw in three places for bringing his daughter home late and with a bruise on her arm. He didn’t lose a fight ever. He could be mean as a snake when he’s in a mood and it didn’t matter who you were. Even when his mom called at the wrong time no one was immune to his wrath.
Nothing about him should have made me want a second glance or to be tied up in this man.