Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 422(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
So yes, when I marched my Valentino clad heels into the Sons of Templar clubhouse and was faced with Colby, I was momentarily distracted.
Okay, more than a little momentarily distracted.
“Hey, darlin’,” he drawled, smiling lazily in a way that I bet had been felt in many panties.
It was felt in mine too. For a millisecond.
“I’m not your darlin’,” I mimicked his smooth voice and the endearment that would’ve pissed me off if said by any other man. At least I was good at pretending I was pissed off at least.
“If you’ll excuse me…” I tried to walk around him, my eyes having scanned the large common area and zeroing in on a hallway, assuming it would lead me to Violet. I’d deduced that she wouldn’t be at her mom’s house since Elden knew she was pregnant and Elden was a protective motherfucker who wasn’t about to let his pregnant woman out of his sight.
I liked that for her.
Loved that for her.
He was the kind of man she deserved.
But a girl also needed her bestie.
She was still in college, and her mom didn’t know she was with Elden let alone pregnant. Her stepfather was protective as fuck and would likely do something violent to Elden for impregnating Violet.
My friend Violet would be trying to protect everyone from the chaos. Everyone but herself.
I was making a beeline for her.
At least I was trying to.
The man stepped in my path in a way that told me he wasn’t going to let me go anywhere.
Which pissed me right off.
“Women, even women who look like you, cannot just go waltzing through the clubhouse,” the man said to me, looking me up and down in a way that told me he was taking measure, and he really liked what he saw.
Now, I was aware that I attracted the male gaze.
Especially considering I was head to toe in pink, complete with leather pants and a bustier that showed off my ample assets and a good amount of midriff.
I didn’t dress for men. I dressed for myself, hard as that was for the male population of this world to understand. They took the way I dressed, the way I carried myself, as an invitation, as consent.
I tasted acid at the memory of the man, no, the boy, who thought he could take that from me.
I’d vowed I wouldn’t let that incident change anything, change me. I’d let myself fall apart, then I got my shit together. But I hadn’t dealt with it. Not really. Which was right on par for me since I was planning on becoming a therapist. And weren’t all shrinks insane? That’s how they got so good at dealing with everyone else’s bullshit. Or maybe the reason I was becoming a shrink was so I could find comfort in knowing that everyone else was just as fucked-up as me.
“I can do and go wherever the fuck I want,” I snarled to the man, pissed off. It was safe to say my already short temper with men had frayed even further since the … incident, and I was really twitchy about them thinking they could tell me what to do.
No matter how hot they were.
And he was hot.
I put my hand on my hip, returning the assessing gaze he’d given me. Yes, he was hot. Tall. Taller than me, even though I was wearing sky-high platforms. He was wearing all black, including the leather vest that communicated he was part of the Sons of Templar MC.
He wasn’t overly muscled like the other two members I’d met, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look strong and impressive. He really did. He was leaner, but his forearms were still sinewy, biceps still defined, shoulders broad.
He was of Asian descent, Korean if I’d had to guess. His inky hair brushed across his face in an effortless way. All of the angles of his face were sharp, defined. His dark eyes were playful and … dangerous.
This man was trouble. And not because he had muscles and was likely armed.
I knew that because I’d done my research on the Sons of Templar MC. They were not some cute, little motorcycle club who wore leather, rode bikes and didn’t so much as jaywalk.
No, these fuckers broke the law. They all had records. None recent, though. Which presumably meant they’d just gotten better at breaking the law. And not too long ago, the entire club was almost wiped out after a mass murder decimated practically the entire charter.
I was hip to the lingo.
Plus, I was a diehard Sons of Anarchy fan. Except for the last season. Why in the fuck Kurt Sutter thought he needed to go full Hamlet was anyone’s business. We needed happily ever afters, goddamnit.
“You cannot go wherever the fuck you want, but I can direct you to my bedroom.” He waggled his brows.