Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)
“Cody,” he said, pointing to his muscled chest. “Elden,” he nodded to the man directly beside him.
“Lucas,” the hipster one offered.
I smiled at them all, my body burning with discomfort, and at a loss of what to do, I did a little curtsy thing.
A curtsy.
I just curtsied to three outlaw bikers while clad in another man’s t-shirt.
Oh my god, was this my first day on Earth?
It kind of was, since this was definitely a whole different world than the one I was used to.
All three men were grinning at me now.
Well, except Elden, the older one in the middle. He had a little upward tilt to his mouth which was what I guessed was his version of a smile.
Now that I’d adequately humiliated myself, it was time to run.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said quietly, mortified. I whirled on my heel, intent on escape of any kind.
It was then I was faced with Swiss, who had been silent during the entire interaction and hadn’t jumped in to save me from myself. Then again, he wasn’t someone who professed to be a hero of any kind.
He was leaning against the doorjamb, grinning from ear to ear, obviously having seen the entire ridiculous exchange.
I did not find anything about this funny, and all my fond feelings for this man dissipated immediately. My bare feet stomped in solidarity with that feeling, but his body blocked me when it became clear that I was heading for the door.
I stopped inches from him, careful not to get too close, and restraining the urge to use both hands to push him out of the way. Violence was never the answer. Plus, there was no way in heck I was going to be able to move him even an inch.
“Where you goin’?” he asked.
I stared up at him. Which was a decent way since I was barefoot, and he was much taller than me. “I’m going to find some pants,” I stage whispered.
He frowned. “Why do you need pants?”
My eyes widened. “Um, I don’t know, since there are a bunch of other people here, and I don’t want to show my ass to all of your friends?”
Swiss grinned. “Coupla things… First off, that shirt damn near goes down to your knees,” he said. “So unless you plan on doin’ some acrobatics that I don’t know you’re capable of, then you’re good. Second, these are my brothers. You are wearin’ my shirt. Means you are mine. So if by some accident your ass is exposed and their eyes wander anywhere near that direction, they’ll be answerin’ to me.”
Though there was a hint of violence in his tone, it didn’t scare me like it should’ve. It warmed me.
“Not that they are that stupid,” he added, his eyes flickering behind me before meeting my gaze once more. “Though I know they don’t exactly look it, these are respectful men. Well, maybe not. They’re fuckin’ scoundrels, honestly. But one thing we all do in this club is respect women. They aren’t lookin’ anywhere but at that gorgeous face, sweetheart. And if they look at it in a way I don’t like, then God have mercy on their souls.”
I was blinking rapidly, trying to process everything he just said.
But he wasn’t done...
His hand stroked my face gently, tucking some rogue strands of hair behind my ear. “But if you don’t feel comfortable wearin’ my shirt, then you go change. Just know you’re safe here. Safe with me.”
Though I had years of experience—actually a lifetime—proven to me that men couldn’t be trusted, and I certainly was not safe with them, I believed Swiss. Down to my soul.
I stared at him a long time, forgetting all about the people around us. “Okay, I’ll wear your shirt,” I whispered quietly, my voice thick with emotion.
Swiss nodded sharply then bent to kiss me gently on the mouth. “Good,” he murmured.
His eyes went behind me. “What are you fuckers doin’ here?” he asked.
Cody popped a grape into his mouth. “Just got back from a run.”
I had no idea what a ‘run’ was, but I guessed it was some biker task that required the cover of darkness.
“Well, don’t think you’re gonna get a bite of what I make,” Swiss told the men. “I’m cookin’ for my woman and my woman only.”
My woman.
He just said that.
To his badass biker buddies.
I gazed up at him. “You’re going to cook for me?” I asked quietly.
He looked down. “Well, of course. I’m not going to expect you to be barefoot in the kitchen, I’m a feminist.”
Cue stomach jump.
“He’s also a terrible fuckin’ cook,” Cody put in, breaking the gaze between us.
“Him serving you food could actually be legally considered as attempted murder,” Lucas added with a grin.
Swiss glowered at them. “Fuck off,” he growled.
I smiled and patted Swiss’s chest. “I appreciate how progressive you are,” I told him sincerely. “But I’ve cooked for a lot of people and haven’t poisoned one yet. Beyond that, I’m very excited about the stove and would revel in the opportunity to utilize it.”