Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
The highway lights smear past in our periphery as he tears ahead, and I thank whatever’s holy that the road is nearly empty this late, almost early morning.
“Woo-hooo!” His cry rips through the night as the bike roars faster, the wind battering my face.
“Feel that?” he shouts, tapping my thigh once more.
“Our imminent deaths? Yeah, crystal clear!”
He laughs, the deep, husky sound carrying in the night. “The wind, Mishka. The wind. You have to let go to enjoy it.”
“And die? No, thank you!”
“We’re all gonna die anyway. Better enjoy what time we have! That sounded so wise and smart, right? Right?” He laughs again, seeming so proud of himself.
I squeeze my grip around his waist. “Slow down!”
“Hugging me close will only get me fired up!”
He speeds until I’m so sure we’re definitely crashing.
My eyes slam shut as I cling to him, my fingers digging in so hard, it must hurt, though he doesn’t notice, too busy ripping through the night at a speed meant for committing suicide.
He’s so fucking unhinged, irresponsible—I can’t believe he’d planned to go on this ride with no leather on—and entirely incompatible with my safe, thought-out lifestyle.
Yet the heat of his back bleeding into my chest, my palms spread over his abs, gives me a sense of belonging I’ve never known. As if this is the exact place where I should be—as illogical as that sounds.
And it is illogical. Yes, sex with Yulian is the best sex I’ve ever had, but that’s just sex.
Or is it?
Because I don’t think it’s only the physical contact that’s slowly but surely turning me into a sex addict.
Or more like a Yulian addict.
He finally slows down, but only because he’s driving toward a rest area. “Need some fuel.”
“Of course you do after you burned it all with the irresponsible speed.”
He slows to a halt in front of one of the slots, and I release a breath, sagging against him.
While I don’t think I minded the ride at the end, that was definitely too reckless for my liking.
“Uh, baby?” His voice filters in the empty silence. “I’d love to have you all pressed up to me all night long, but I kind of need to get some fuel. Just give me one minute flat, and I’ll be done.”
Fuck.
I shove away from him and swing off the bike, my legs not entirely steady. He catches my arm to keep me upright.
“Easy. Takes time to get used to it.”
“I’m fine.” I swat him off. “Just needed to catch my breath.”
Yulian strips off his helmet, his hair damp and wild, tossing it like he knows just how lethal the sight is. His leather jacket strains over cut muscle, his jeans riding low, his boots planted firm. He looks straight out of a damn commercial. Rugged, masculine, and devastatingly…stunning.
“Catching your breath from how hot I look?” He props his chin in the crook of his thumb and finger, grinning.
I remove my helmet and hit him with it across the chest. “From how irresponsibly you drive.”
“Nah, come on, the whole point of having this baby is to drive her fast.” He strokes the bike ever so lovingly.
I narrow my eyes. “It’s a motorcycle.”
“Duh.” He clutches the helmet, but I don’t release it.
“A motorcycle isn’t a real person, Yulian.”
“Yeah…and?”
“And you shouldn’t call it baby.”
He laughs so loud, he topples over with it. The sound is contagious, but I shove him again, this time yanking the helmet from him and placing it on the bike.
“It’s not that funny,” I say, trying to sound stern, but really, I could watch him laugh all day.
He wipes the corner of his eye with the glove. “It is funny to see you jealous of my bike.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Might need to hide her before you set her on fire like poor Zver.”
“It’s an it, not a her.”
“You’re so jealous, you look like you’ll burst into flames.” He chuckles again, flicking me on the nose. “You’re so fucking adorable.”
I swat his hand away.
“Seriously, though, broke my heart when you killed Zveroushka.”
“You actually gave a bike a diminutive form?”
“Hell yeah. Poor thing died so young.” He sighs, then grins. “She probably would’ve agreed to sacrifice herself if it meant you’d end up right here with me.”
“Again, the motorcycles are ‘it,’ Yulian.”
“No, I name my beautiful ladies.” He strokes the bike again, and I’m honestly so damn annoyed, it’s insulting. “Didn’t name her, though, so as not to taint Zver’s memory…Hey! You can do it.”
“I’m not naming your bike.”
“Then I’ll just continue to call her baby.”
“Chaos.” I hit him upside the head. “Just go with something that fits you.”
“Hear that, Chaos? Daddy number two is jealous, but Daddy number one will always love you,” he croons, rubbing his hand all over the bike, and I kick him in the shin.
“Ow! You’re a menace.”
“I’ll pay for the fuel and grab us something to drink.”