Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78237 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“You are totally whipped,” she accuses with a smile. “But I’m glad you’re happy. A boss getting regular lovin’ is a good boss to have.”
“He does make me happy,” I confirm. Replacing my piece of shit Honda is one of the best decisions I ever made. I met a wonderful man who knows how to treat a woman, and best of all, he wants a real woman rather than a nitwit with the body of a twenty-year-old. “And he’s here,” I tell Willow as Cyrus approaches from the front parking lot. “Be nice,” I remind her.
“I’m always nice,” she sings and dumps the crumbs into the last batch of trash for the day. “And I’ll take out the trash while you get it hard and fast on the front counter.”
“Not happening,” I tell her with a laugh and open the door for Cyrus.
He flashes a wide, toothpaste-commercial grin when he sees me, and it sends a spear of warmth coursing through me. His flop of blond hair is perfectly in place, looking almost white against his tan skin.
With his khaki pants and dark green shirt that highlights his big brown eyes, I feel my body come to life at the sight of him.
“Hey, babe,” he gushes. “Have a good day at the office?” He leans in and presses a slow, hot kiss to my lips in greeting.
“Better now,” I say and wrap my arms around his lean waist. “How was your day?”
He shrugs. “Sold five cars today, so I can’t complain, and I get to end my day in my woman’s arms. How do you feel about Italian for dinner?”
I swoon a little at his offer because Cyrus is just a good man. He treats me like I’m his everything, opening doors like a gentleman. He’s always got a steadying hand on the small of my back, and he walks closest to the street in a purely protective gesture that I love.
“Italian sounds good. I have some leftover tiramisu for dessert.”
“I love your tiramisu,” he growls and nips my ear before his lips trace a trail of hot kisses across my collarbone and up to my lips. The kiss is long and hot, and by the time Cyrus pulls back, I’m trembling with arousal in his arms. “We could always order in?”
I purr at his suggestion. Sex between us is good but the more comfortable we get with each other, the better it will be. Right?
“I’m good with either option, Cyrus.”
He presses his hips against mine so I can feel his growing erection. “I love it when you say my name all breathy like that. Makes me so hard.”
“Good to know,” I tell him and steal another kiss just as the front door is yanked open so hard the frame bangs loudly. “What in the hell?” I blink a few times, unable to believe what I’m seeing.
Why are the Iron Kings inside For Goodness Cakes?
No one would ever call my place a biker hangout, but the Reckless Souls occasionally stop in since it’s right inside their turf. I’ve heard about the tension between the biker factions. You can’t really do business in Angel Harbor without knowing who they are, but no Iron Kings frequent my bakery.
“Cyrus! My man!” A blond man with angry brown eyes limps in last, and all the guys step aside to create a path for him, which pegs him as the leader of the group. “What the fuck are you doing trying to get your dick wet?”
I frown at Cyrus and then look closer at the man in the leather vest and the patch that designates him as Vice President.
“You know this guy, Cyrus?” Cyrus works at the used car lot, not with foul mouth bikers.
Cyrus pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out an annoyed sigh. “Billy—I mean, Nogales—is family. His brother is married to my sister.”
I nod at his explanation. You can’t help who your family is, no matter how hard you try. Still, the explanation feels incomplete as the sick feeling in my stomach intensifies, a signal I’ve learned never to ignore. “Oh. Okay.”
It’s a bland reply, and I know I should say more, but with all these bikers around, my fight-or-flight instincts are having a brutal fight in the pit of my stomach.
Willow picks that moment to enter from the back room. “Hey, Boss,” she begins and stops just as quickly, her blue eyes wide at the sight of bikers filling up the bakery. “What’s going on?”
Nogales shoots a hard stare at Willow before his gaze goes back to Cyrus. “We don’t have time for this shit, not right now. Hector is gone, and we need to gather up all the men, every able-bodied fucker we have.”
Cyrus takes a step away from me, hands on his hips and a serious expression on his usually relaxed face. “Why?”