Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I hope.
Chapter 23
Lissie
“Is it a one-night stand?”
Sex. Is that what I expect from Milo? Absolutely.
But I assumed we would have it in his room at the clubhouse. Instead, he drives through town and farther out. I don’t ask him where he’s taking me because I know I’m safe with him. And although some would probably think me deranged for going away with a ruthless killer, I don’t care. Everyone knows he’s as ruthless as he looks, and if he wanted me dead, I would have been by now.
Nerves start to hit me when he turns down a gravel driveway and slows his bike. With only a few lights on up ahead to guide us, he drives up to a large white fence, hops off the bike, and pushes the gate open. What’s on the other side of it is what looks like a massive country home. It’s a two- possibly three-story white barn-style house with a blue roof. Lush green landscaping and a few garden beds cover the grounds around the house. He maneuvers down the white gravel and comes to a stop out front. The porch light shines on us as he turns off his bike. I climb off and remove my helmet, and when I turn to him, he’s standing next to me and studying my reaction.
“Where are we?” I ask.
He glances at the house and back to me. “My house,” he states.
I’m in awe. Really, I am. This place is a dream from the outside—well-maintained and doesn’t look like it’s owned by a bad-ass biker.
“Since when?”
“I started building it when I was seventeen. I found the land, and my father bought it for me. It took me over five years.” He grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the house, and I go with him willingly. He puts his thumb on a scanner next to the door, and it unlocks, letting us in.
“So if I just cut off your thumb, I’d have access as well?” I joke.
He stops inside, pushes a few buttons, then reaches for my hand again and presses my finger on the pad for a few moments. When the scan is done, he drops my hand.
“Now you can enter whenever you please.”
“What if I rob you?”
“Rob me blind, Pretty Lady. It would only give me an excuse to track you down.”
I turn away from him—his words making my girl parts flutter—and take in the interior of the house. Wooden floors stretch from wall to wall, their rich grain adding warmth to the space. The living room features brown leather couches adorned with colorful throw cushions. The space opens to a kitchen, which is also decorated in warm brown tones. Accent rugs provide a pop of color to break up the brown color palette.
Upstairs, an elegant iron railing encircles the open landing, giving a sense of openness. Strategically placed lights shine and cast a soft glow that highlights every corner.
“This place is beautiful,” I say, wandering farther in and not thinking too much about the fact that he just gave me full permission to come and go as I please. “Is it just you who lives here?”
“Yes, I prefer it that way.”
“But you stay a lot at the clubhouse?”
“Yes. But if I had a choice, it would be here.”
“How can you afford this?” This place has to be worth a lot, with its high-end finishes, spacious layout, and attention to detail. The quality craftsmanship shines through in every room.
“I can afford a lot of things,” he muses, kicking off his boots. “You’ll spend the night. As you said, though, only one night.”
“One-night stand usually means the other leaves after it’s done.”
“You have a lot of one-night stands?” he asks, anger in his tone.
“No, I never really thought about it.”
“You will stay the whole night. And in the morning, I’ll take you back. Until then, get naked.”
I gape at him. “You get naked,” I bite back.
He shrugs as if it’s nothing and instantly starts pulling off his vest, placing it on the back of the couch next to where I’m standing, then reaches for his shirt. Crossing his hands at the hem, he pulls it over his head and off. If eyes could drool, mine would be right now.
Toned.
Muscular.
Tattooed.
His tattoos don’t form any sort of pattern. They look randomly placed as if on a canvas where the artist has gone mad. But it works.
Milo unbuckles his belt and tugs it through the loops, then drops it to the floor. He unbuttons his jeans without looking up or even caring that I’m ogling him. I stare as he pulls them down, leaving him in only boxers. Then, without a second thought, he removes those as well.
Standing before me is a man.
And I mean… a man.
Cock hard and long, a neatly shaved patch of hair surrounding the base, as if he keeps himself manicured, though he doesn’t give the impression that he does. Would I have thought of his cock as manicured before? Probably not, but now I know with absolute certainty I will.