Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
I blamed TV shows for making me think that all bikers did was have sex, drink, and fight.
But, of course, they would have hobbies.
Maybe especially the biker who went around in slack-shorts and short-sleeve button-ups with fancy, expensive-looking watches.
“All?” I said, shaking my head. “It depends on my mood if I want a mystery or an adventure. And a little romance always makes things more layered and interesting,” I told him, leaving out the fact that the spicy scenes were hot and engaging. “Do you like to read?” I asked, surprised with how hopeful I was that he might say yes.
I’d never expected a man I was interested in to also share my interest in books. I preferred guys who had hobbies, of course, but it was fine if their hobbies were gaming or, like, Star Wars or whatever.
I’d dated one guy once who’d really been into his comic books, but given that I couldn’t seem to get into them, we hadn’t really shared that, either.
I barely knew this man, but it was suddenly really important to me that he liked books.
“Not as much as I probably should,” Donovan said. “But I used to read a lot more.”
“What kind of books? Action stuff?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’ve always been a bit of an adrenaline junkie,” he admitted.
“That makes sense. With your current vocation,” I agreed. “Are you also the rollercoaster and bungee jumping sort? My sister is like that,” I told him, once again a little envious of her. Because adrenaline junkie guys didn’t exactly want to go with girls who got a little shaky if they looked down the balcony from the second floor to the first inside the mall.
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Not your thing, huh?” he asked, smirking.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, but the horrified look in your eyes did,” he told me.
“Guilty,” I admitted. “Triss is the adventurous one. I’m the one who holds the bags.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“I get shaky when driving on the interstate,” I admitted, rolling my eyes at myself.
I think a part of me expected him to laugh at me. But his head tipped as much to the side as the brace would allow, and his gaze was thoughtful.
“Are you afraid of the speed, or are you afraid of the crash at speeds that high?”
“The crash,” I admitted.
“The problem with major roadways is that your life isn’t necessarily in your own hands. It’s in everyone else’s.”
“That’s true,” I agreed.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Did you lose someone in a wreck?”
I hadn’t been expecting that question for sure.
“I did. We did,” I clarified. “Both of our parents.”
Technically, our father had died instantly. Our mom had lived on life support for several weeks before she was taken off and allowed to pass.
“I’m sorry. How old were you two?”
“Triss was twelve. I was ten and a half. We’d been having a sleepover at our grandparents’ house at the time. Then we… never left,” I told him. “That is my grandmother’s house still, technically.”
“It did seem like an… aged neighborhood for two young women. Your grandmother is still with you.”
“In the fact that she is still alive, yes. She actually lives on a cruise boat.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah. She always loved cruises. But my grandfather got seasick, so they only went very occasionally. I guess she is making up for lost time now.”
“Do you see her often?”
“For a few weeks a year, but all broken up. We usually have no idea when she is going to blow into town. But she always comes with all these awesome stories, and lots of souvenirs.”
“Have you ever gone with her?”
“We went for a cruise on Triss’s eighteenth birthday. But not since.”
“Did you like it?”
“I, ah, I liked the whole… being on land in a nice place after part,” I told him, and this time he did chuckle a little. “Unfortunately, I have a touch of my grandfather’s seasickness too. Not as bad, but any level of throwing up is bad, in my opinion.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed as I finished with his other arm, then lowered down to my knees in front of him to unwrap his legs.
It wasn’t until I looked up at him after getting off the gauze that I realized, well, how things sort of… looked.
And that look in his eyes, was it maybe a little… heat?
For me?
Or just because, you know, the idea of someone on their knees for him?
I couldn’t shake those thoughts, not even after my gaze fell, and I set to working on his legs.
It wasn’t until I was finished that I realized I’d rested a free hand on his thigh.
And not just, you know, right above his knee or anything. It was like smack-dab in the center of his thigh.
I was suddenly acutely aware of his tighter breathing. And the way his cock was straining against the material of his shorts.