Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77106 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“How the fuck old do you think I am?” he asked, chuckling. “No, that was when I turned eighteen.”
“Right. Math isn’t my strong suit,” I admitted.
“You were about to give me a complex,” he said, shooting me an easy smile.
My fingers drifted over an eight ball with flames to locate those fifteen arrows again.
“What about these?” I asked, not noticing how tense Coast had gone at first. Until his fingers laced through mine and pulled my hand away. “Think that’s enough of a tattoo tour for today.” Then, feeling me tense in response, he softened it by adding, “Gotta leave some questions for the next time.”
The next time.
God, I wanted there to be one.
I wanted there to be dozens of next times. Even if the logical part of my mind knew that we should probably just call it quits at the one. No matter how much that made my heart feel like it was deflating in my chest.
“Keep my spot warm for me,” he said, untangling himself from me. “I’ll be right back.”
With that, he hopped off the bed, yanking to pull his jeans up to cover himself before making his way to the bathroom.
It was kind of cute how he wanted to protect Lainey’s innocence, even though she had no idea what body parts even were yet.
The playard pushed back into the room so he could move into the bathroom.
He came back a moment later, pants on, shirt still off, and reached for my ankles, then dragged me to the end of the bed.
A laugh bubbled up and escaped as he pulled me to my feet.
“Go pee,” he demanded, patting my ass. “Can’t have you getting a UTI.”
With that, he flopped back down on the bed as I walked toward the bathroom, a strange, bemused smile on my face.
Because, I mean, I wasn’t used to a man even caring about my emotional needs after sex, let alone the health of my, you know, system.
Therein, I decided as I washed my hands, was the root of Coast’s charm. The realness of it.
He wasn’t full of flowery words, flattery, or promises he had no intentions of keeping.
He just… cared. In a very normal, human way.
“Wait. Hold up,” he called as I opened the bathroom door. “Let me get into position,” he added, piling the pillows, then resting against them, lacing his fingers together to rest on his stomach. “Alright. Proceed.”
Another laugh escaped me as I moved out.
If there was one thing about a lifetime in a skintight leotard taught you, it was comfort in your own skin. So there were no stirrings of insecurity as I moved out. And even if there were, they would have been squashed at the look of pure appreciation on Coast’s face as I walked toward him.
“You put ‘em on, I’m just gonna take ‘em right back off,” he warned when he saw my gaze go to my clothes piled on the floor.
Unlike him, I had no hangups about being naked around Lainey. She came out of me for goodness’ sakes. And she’d interrupted far too many showers to feel weird about it.
So I just climbed up on the bed next to Coast, but was careful not to touch him too much.
Which he promptly showed me he didn’t like when his arm curled around me and hauled me unceremoniously against his chest.
“Better,” he said, making my lips curve up.
“I wasn’t expecting you to come back,” I said.
“I was trying not to.”
“Why?”
“Because the last fucking thing you need in your lives is someone as fucked as me.”
“You’ve literally been the kindest person I’ve ever met.”
“Then the bar is in hell, baby.”
“Oh, come on,” I said, angling my head up to look at him. “I didn’t have you pegged for insecure.”
“Not insecure. Just giving it to you straight.”
“Give it to me… straighter then. Because I’m not following.”
“I’m a biker.”
“So? Plenty of people ride bikes.”
“No, Zo. I’m a biker. A one-percenter. Do you know what that means?”
“No.”
“No,” he agreed, shooting me a warm smile. “Can’t imagine a ballerina has much need to learn about bike clubs. The saying is that ninety-nine percent of bike clubs are just fun, law-abiding groups of men who like motorcycles.”
Ninety-nine percent were law-abiding.
And he was a one-percenter.
“I think a part of me kind of knew that the club was, I don’t know, up to something.” Especially with the casual way he carried that gun in the alley.
“We sell guns, Zo,” he said. “Illegally.”
“Oh,” I said. “Huh.”
“That’s all you got?” he asked, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Did you expect outrage?”
“Maybe fear.”
“I’m not sure I could be afraid of you.”
“Think that’s because you don’t know me. Not really.”
“I lived with you for a few days. You wiped away my sweat and woke me up for my meds. You took care of my baby when I couldn’t. You spoiled her with toys and swings.”