Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 426(@250wpm)___ 355(@300wpm)
Yeah, she’s got to go tomorrow.
“No, thank you.” She crosses her arms, closing herself off from me.
That’s my girl. I can’t help but smirk as I suck in another long drag of Mary Jane, my body relaxing on the exhale.
“Let’s take a tour.” Before she can talk, I place my hand on her lower back, pushing her so that she gets a move on.
“This is my bedroom.” I gesture to my giant California king. I’m not a man who collects things, so for the few things I do have, I’ve spared no expense.
My bike, car, and guitars—all my stuff is nothing but the best. I work my ass off and deserve it.
My room is my private haven. I let women in to fuck, but there is an unwritten rule that you leave after I’ve shot my load. Only on rare occasions do I make an allowance.
I walk her into the next room that holds more guitars, the kitchen, and my couch where I have all my electronics and my small studio set up. I used to have it enclosed like a small booth when I was still writing music and recording, but after a year of not even stepping into it, I had a few walls torn down and now it’s open with padded floors. When I do play, the sound is still adequate.
“So, you really are a musician?” Her eyes scan all my guitars hanging on the wall.
“Yeah. A lifetime ago, I had a band. Now I play for pleasure.” Her slight vanilla-citrus scent drifts up to me. From the moment I smelled her, she became one of my favorite smells.
“Is it true you know Rhys Granger?” Her eyes finally find mine. Her red plump lips are wet from her tongue, and that fucking beauty mark just does it for me.
I reach down to sweep her hair off her shoulder. It’s soft like silk. Her jacket needs to go. In fact, all her clothes need to go. My mind wanders back to fucking her again.
“Why? You got a thing for Granger?” It’s a joke. I’m not serious since I know she has a thing for me.
“I love Granger.” For a second, I’m so enthralled with her lips and beauty mark I don’t digest what she said.
“Did you say you love Granger?” And here I go again, ready to strangle her.
“What? You asked,” she huffs, and I’m speechless. This has never happened to me.
“I love the Stuffed Muffins. Granger is incredibly talented and…” Her voice trails off as I walk away and grab my pack of cigarettes. If I was with anyone else, I’d start laughing. But for some reason, I’m not finding her funny, or cute, or anything but a fucking wannabe groupie.
“Who told you I know Rhys?”
“The girls at the club.” Her voice is way more confident when she’s on the defense. “So, do you know him?”
Again, I almost laugh at her fucking gall. “Yeah, I do. I’ll put in a good word for you. Granger is always looking for a new whore. Although with you being religious, that might be a problem since Granger likes them nasty.”
I light up my cigarette and take a breath. This is fucking pathetic. I’m fighting with this woman as if we’re a couple and I haven’t even fucked her.
I walk to my island and grab a bottle of Jack Daniels. Taking a swig, I don’t even look at her.
“Can I use your bathroom, please?” She’s pissed, not that I blame her. I’m being a dick, but that’s me.
I bring the bottle to my lips, my eyes never leaving hers as I down a good portion, letting the spicy flavor sting its way to my gut.
“Second door to the right in my bedroom, princess.”
She looks down at her feet and nods, heading toward my room. I almost grab her. Instead I bring the bottle to my mouth before I say or do something I’ll regret.
She hesitates at the doorframe. “I’m filthy. Do you mind if I take a shower?” Her voice drips sarcasm.
I snort. “Darlin’, make yourself at home.”
ANTOINETTE
Leaning against his bedroom door, I try to steady my breathing. This was a mistake. A huge one.
I can’t even try to understand my emotions. All I know is I want to run and hide. I grab one of my trash bags full of clothes and rush into his bathroom. Locking myself in, I blink and adjust to how clean the room is. Strike that. It’s spotless with a faint smell of bleach.
“Unreal,” I whisper, fighting back the tears that I’m not sure are from humiliation or shock. I’m locked in a biker’s bathroom, albeit the cleanest bathroom I’ve ever been in.
This is ridiculous. It all happened so fast. My mind is still trying to catch up. Closing my eyes, I let the truth of today and my reality crash over me.