Page 10 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
He slides by my car, glancing at my window once, and revs. This time, he blocks my path and tries to force me to a stop.
What the fuck?
Since this guy won’t back down I’m putting a stop to him.
Pushing the brakes, I park by the side of the street near an industrial parking lot.
“What’s your problem?” I dash out of my car. “We could’ve crashed into each other. Or worse, I could’ve killed you pulling shit like that.”
I pause by the hood of my car, maintaining a distance between us.
Engaging the bike’s kickstand, he kills the ignition and links his leg next to the other as he gets off.
He strides toward me with a confident gait and doesn’t stop until I’m barricaded between his firm towering frame and the hood of my car. Tossing his head back and exposing the black-winged grim reaper on his neck, he peels the helmet off and sets it on the hood behind me.
The most breathtaking man I’ve ever seen is staring back at me with his magnetic, murky eyes.
“Nothing wrong with an ounce of danger.” Traces of an Australian accent coloring his husky, deep voice—familiar in a way that raises a tingle of awareness within me. Every word is like a poem, sending shivers down my spine.
I don’t let it translate to my face. At least, I hope it doesn’t.
Staring down at me, the thick, jet-black pile of hair atop his head falls like curtains to his forehead and the sides of his face.
“I could’ve crashed into you, asshole.” My rage still bubbles in my core.
I pretend not to be phased by this man’s steady gaze and the curiosity that dances between his eyes.
“You got quite a mouth on you.” Sheer amusement laces his tone as a delicious smirk crawls across his mouth. “I wouldn’t have put you in danger. You were driving at the speed limit.”
I’m one of those lucky ones who gets turned on by the deep timbre of a man’s voice. “Will you tell me what was so important you nearly crushed your Kawasaki or are we entering into another staring contest?”
What is wrong with this guy?
His tongue traces over his bottom lip before his teeth bite down softly.
Seductively.
“You’re fun.” Nodding his head like he’s deciding it as we speak, “And you know your way around a bike.” The way he drags his bottom lip between his teeth is not at all distracting.
I tend to impress people with my knowledge of bikes which I gained from my dad and cousin. Both of whom are huge fans of the industry.
Planting his leg between mine, he nudges me to spread them wider. Somehow he stirs a deep-buried need within my soul.
Fuck me, I obey a stranger.
What is wrong withme?
It’s exhilarating.
His warm minty breath on my face is sending a tingling sensation down my spine straight to my wet center.
His dark gaze is piercing. Sucking in a breath, I stare back at him with bewilderment.
“I saw you in the club, and thought of inviting you to go back there.” A challenge settles on his countenance.
This strange man followed me from the club. Should I spray him with my mace? I have it locked and loaded ready to strike. Good thing I exited the car with my purse on in case of an emergency.
“Look, I don’t know you.” My voice comes out strained and I want to slap my motherfucking face for betraying me.
