Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
She could imagine that a morbidly obese man collapsing and crushing her with his—literally—dead weight would be traumatic. After that incident, the dancer quit and was never heard from again.
Lyric hoped she had sought therapy.
“What’re doin’ here?” Ash asked once more, drawing a hand down his stubbled cheek and yawning loudly, not bothering to cover his gaping mouth.
Bikers were allergic to manners.
“We need to reschedule your appointment.”
His eyebrows stitched together. “You always show up on your customer’s doorstep for that?”
“No.”
“Then, what’re doin’ here, Lyric?” he asked yet again.
She needed to stop avoiding the subject and get to it. “I think we need to talk about what happened yesterday.” She shook her head and clarified, “No, I know we need to talk about yesterday.”
“Need coffee,” he grunted and headed over to the counter in his small kitchenette. He asked over his shoulder, “Your birthday?”
She let her eyes roam over the black and gray club colors inked into his expansive back; a blatant reminder of why they were both the way they were. “Not that.”
After he prepped the coffee maker, he stabbed the power button. “Then what?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You don’t remember?”
He pulled a mug from under a mess on the counter—a counter without even an inch of clear space—and turned to stare at her for a few heartbeats. “Remember. That’s the problem.” He tipped his head toward the gurgling coffee maker. “Want some?”
She shook her head. No way was she drinking anything out of one of his mugs when she couldn’t confirm the last time it had been washed. The sweet butts probably didn’t come over to clean his place very often since it wasn’t convenient. Unless they were already there for another reason.
The little green monster raised its ugly head again and clawed at her insides. “Why is it a problem?”
“‘Cause it ain’t smart.”
“That’s what you said yesterday. Then you disappeared.” She tried to keep the hurt from her tone, but she failed.
“Yeah.”
Yeah? Was that all she was going to get from him?
His eyes slowly roamed over her from top to toe. By the time they rose to her face again, they were heated. And so were her insides. “Left ‘cause you’re too temptin’.”
She rolled her lips under so she wouldn’t smile at that confession. Once she had it under control, she asked, “And why is that a problem?”
His jaw shifted and his tone turned a little harsh. “‘Cause you need someone better than me, Lyric. I ain’t it.”
If he thought that was going to scare her away, he was mistaken. “We kissed, Ash. It wasn’t a marriage proposal.”
With a grunt, he turned and pulled the pot from underneath the still-dripping coffee and filled his mug. “Kissin’ leads to other shit.”
She rolled her eyes. “I learned that in Sex Ed.”
He took a sip of the steaming coffee, then peered at her over the brim of the mug. “Sex Ed.”
“Did you skip that class?”
“Didn’t need a fuckin’ class to learn that, woman.”
“No. Just a lesson in baseball.”
Once he gulped down another mouthful of coffee, his eyebrows rose. “Baseball?”
“Yes, you know…bases. First base, second base, third base, home run?”
He shook his head. “Too early for this shit,” he mumbled under his breath.
She grinned. “Please tell me you know that reference.”
“Yeah, baby, know that reference, but haven’t used it in over twenty years. For a reason.”
She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “You’ve never had sex without kissing first?”
He plunked his mug down on the counter and his chest expanded slowly before quickly contracting. “Don’t you gotta open the shop soon?”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
He sucked on his teeth. “Didn’t say that.”
“Sounds like it. Is it because I tempt you?” When he didn’t respond, she continued. “Because that’s what you said.”
He grunted.
“Is the temptation in the room with us right now?” she tried to tease. Unfortunately, her attempt fell flat.
“Yeah, Lyric. It’s in the fuckin’ room right now.” His grumble sounded more irritated than amused.
He abruptly turned, pulled a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet over the coffee maker, and generously poured some into his mug. He then downed half the mug.
Holy crap. “A little early for that, isn’t it?”
He circled the mug in front of him. “Too early for all this shit.”
“Point taken.” It was time to get out of there since he didn’t want to be bothered. She cleared the sudden thickness from her throat. “Before I go”—she pulled out her phone—“let me pull up my calendar and we can reschedule your tattoo. I think you’ll like the finished design.”
He never had an opinion on what she designed for him. He had always accepted whatever it was.
One day she should simply draw a big, veiny penis and see if he objected to that.
Now she wasn’t looking forward to tattooing the hawk on the side of his head. Luckily, she could act like a professional and pretend he was simply another client.