Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Ah-ha!” Ace cheered. He stepped out of the closet and tossed a pair of brand-new jeans at me. “I remember I got you those for Christmas. Never wore ‘em, huh?”
I picked them up. They were so dark that they were almost black, and the tags were still on them. I vaguely remembered shoving them in the back of the closet the day after Christmas because I didn’t want to ruin something Ace had gotten for me.
“Wear those and…” he popped back into the closet as I stood and toed off my worn boots. I was shucking off my jeans when he tossed a flannel shirt on the bed—the first one I’d gotten when I got out of prison. I hadn’t touched it since. “That.”
I tugged the jeans up my legs. “Really don’t want to wear that fuckin’ shirt,” I told him.
Ace shrugged at me. “Too bad. I don’t give a flippin’ fuck. You’re wearing it. That girl might be an escort, but she still deserves for you to show up looking like you put some effort in.”
I drew in a deep breath to calm my irritation. “Who the hell told you?”
“Arlo,” Ace said with a shrug.
I snatched the flannel shirt off the bed. “You fuckers gossip like old women.”
Ace pretended to mock me. I scowled at him. “You get on my damn nerves.”
He grinned at me, not giving a single shit that I was damn near at my limit with him. “You’ll be thanking me later.” With that, he yanked open my door and strode into the hallway. “Might want to hurry before you’re late,” he called over his shoulder as he began his descent down the stairs.
I wouldn’t be almost late if he hadn’t forced me to change my fucking clothes.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered as I shoved my feet back into my boots. That damn boy loved to bounce on that last nerve I had.
My bike rumbled to a stop in front of Blakely’s apartment. The complex was shitty and rundown. Paint was peeling off the exterior, and a couple of apartments had boarded-up windows. Trash littered the parking lot, and there was so much furniture piled by the dumpsters that it looked like the city had given up on picking it all up and was just letting it rot there.
I didn’t like Blakely living here. Protectiveness surged in my veins, nearly overwhelming me. I wanted her out of this damn apartment complex and away from this side of town.
I wanted her in the clubhouse. In my bed. Living with me. Working with me. Suddenly, I needed her to always be where I could keep an eye on her. Where I could protect her.
She stepped out of her apartment wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans that molded perfectly to every beautiful curve of her legs and hips. Her top was see-through with rhinestones along the collar and the ends of her sleeves. A black lace bralette covered her perfect tits.
Blakely was…stunning.
“Hey,” I rasped. Reaching out, I grasped her hip and tugged her closer. She leaned down and pressed her lips softly to mine. It took every ounce of my restraint to keep it PG. Because if I didn’t, she and I were never going out on this date. I was going to bend her over my bike and fuck her for everyone to see instead.
I stood off the bike and grabbed the extra helmet I’d picked up a couple of days ago. “I hope you didn’t put a lot of work into your hair,” I told her as she fastened her blonde strands back into a low ponytail using the hair tie on her wrist.
She shook her head. “Nope. I hate fussing with my hair.”
I chuckled. “My kind of girl.”
And fuck, the way she smiled at me… like my words meant the goddamn world to her…
I was a goner. No damn question about it. Blakely had me wrapped around her pinkie, and I knew I would do anything to see her aim another one of those beautiful smiles at me.
Blakely forked a bite of steak into her mouth. For a few minutes now, she looked like she wanted to ask me something but was too nervous to do so. I’d been waiting to see if she would just ask it; I had nothing to hide from her. But she wasn’t opening her mouth.
“You look like something is on your mind,” I finally said, arching a brow at her.
A light blush stole over her cheeks. “I didn’t think I was being that obvious.”
I snorted. “Sweet girl, your thoughts sort of play out over your face like a neon sign. What’s up?”
She sighed and set her fork down, her blue eyes nervously locking on mine. “Uhm, there’s a rumor at Hooked that you did a stint in prison. Is that true?”
I nodded, my gut tightening. I’d never been ashamed of my time inside. I owned that shit. But suddenly, the thought of her walking away from me because of my record… it made me want to throw up.