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)
My cheeks flamed as he flung that information at me. All facts I knew, of course. But him hurling them at me with such naked fury made me feel shame that I shouldn’t have been feeling.
“I’m aware of this,” I gritted out.
“You’re not aware since you had fuckin’ dinner with him.” He pressed harder against my chest. My heart thundered painfully underneath his palm.
“You need to be taught a lesson,” he murmured.
His other hand split my robe then went straight between my legs, which spread on reflex.
Colby didn’t take his eyes off me. “Yeah, soaking fucking wet,” he licked his lips as his fingers slipped inside my panties.
My back arched the second his fingers found my clit.
Colby didn’t wait to insert one finger inside, then another.
“You think you’re in control here,” he rasped out, fucking me with his fingers. “I realize you’re used to that. But you’ve met your fucking match, poppet.”
He bent to put his lips on my camisole, sucking on the hard peaks of my nipples.
Just as my body was about to break apart, his mouth was gone, his fingers were gone, and he was no longer pinning me to the wall.
I gasped as he raised his fingers to his mouth, tasting me.
“You go near him again, there will be fuckin’ trouble.”
And before I could even argue with him, he turned and walked out of my fucking apartment.
I was mad at Colby. Fucking furious.
Not just because of him depriving me of an orgasm. I’d finished myself off after he left, but despite the high caliber of my vibrator, my orgasm didn’t measure up to what I knew I would’ve had with him.
Then there was the whole bursting into my apartment and acting furious about my date with the sheriff.
He had no right to do that.
The worst thing was, I could understand his anger. I knew I had betrayed the club I had become rather fond of just by sharing a meal with this guy, but I’d done it for a good cause. Despite my good intentions, I hadn’t gotten shit from him.
Instead I got a steak, an angry biker and half an orgasm.
I was frustrated and wondered if it was worth me continuing to act like I was interested in the sheriff on the off chance he let his guard down to tell me what he knew about the serial killer.
There was a slight chance it might work. If I committed enough to get in bed with him. Just the thought made me feel vaguely sick.
So back to the drawing board.
I didn’t tell Violet about the date, or about Colby. She had only just recovered from her attack, was over five months pregnant and didn’t need my bullshit.
Hence me being on my best behavior at the barbeque I attended before I left for school.
“Why do you fight it?” Violet asked, rubbing her stomach, eyes not on me.
They were on the huddle of men who were drinking beers and congregating around the grill.
At first, I figured she was checking out Elden, considering she did that on a constant basis now that their secret was out of the bag, and her stepfather wasn’t going to kill him.
But no, she was staring at Colby, who I had done my level best not to look at since he arrived. I’d also done my level best to avoid him. But the town was small, and there were many biker gatherings. Plus, I wasn’t going to run from him. My willpower should’ve been stronger than that. Even though my entire body shivered as I ran my eyes over his cut, sinewy forearms, remembering the way his tongue had moved across my clit. What he tasted like. I had to stop myself from running into his arms right this second.
His gaze met mine, and I struggled not to flinch as if I’d been shocked. I quickly focused back on my best friend.
Who was smirking. The bitch.
“There’s obviously something between you two.” She nodded her head in Colby’s direction. “He’s hot. He’s a good guy but also a really bad one in all the right ways… Just your type.”
I sipped my beer. “I don’t have a type,” I lied.
Which before Garnett was kind of true. I wasn’t picky about who I took to bed. Actually, I reveled in the freedom that came with being just a little slutty. I wore my sluthood as a badge of honor.
Sex had been drilled into me as something forbidden. Tawdry. I’d been drenched in shame in my teens while wrestling with hormones, unable to stop myself from putting my hands between my legs and bringing myself to orgasm every night.
I’d vowed when I left my parents’ home that I’d never be ashamed of my body or my sexuality again. I’d celebrate it. And I’d done a pretty fucking great job these past few years.