Read Online Faster (Stark Ink, #3) by Dahlia West - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dahlia West
Ads: Link
back. His eyes bored into her. “Which you won’t be going to, ever again. And sure as fuck not with Sienna, right ?”
Ava shivered at his chilly tone. Between Jonah’s massive size and the slight air of menace that always seemed to surround him, he was more intimidating than Adam. Or Dalton. Or even Pop.
“I won’t go back,” she promised.
“Good,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “Because I’m not a fucking babysitter.”
Ava resisted the urge to argue that she needed one. Jonah would never hurt her, not in a million years. But a shouting match would wake Adam and Pop and she’d be forced to explain more than she cared to.
As she watched the front door to the house close, her darker thoughts gave way to new possibilities. She knew Emilio’s name now, and where he worked. And he thought she was a damn good rider, unless he was just blowing smoke at Jonah. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. She was determined to find out, though, because damn, he was hot.
Her bike didn’t need any work, but she knew a vehicle that did.
Chapter Eight
A va found the garage pretty easily. In fact, it wasn’t too far from Maria’s Bar. The low-slung building was set back from the street, surrounded by chain-link fencing. The front gate was open, though, and she turned into the crushed gravel lot. To her left there was a row of Harley’s, all black and chrome, all gleaming in the summer sun. The Interceptor stood out among them as the only racing bike, though it probably cost nearly as much as the others.
She pulled up next to the Honda and killed the engine of the Olds. She heaved open the driver’s side door and planted her boot on the gravel. Instead of heading straight into the garage, though, she stopped long enough to admire the bike in daylight. Painted oxblood red, it had a leather seat to match. The muffler system had been modified and so had the clutch. It was nicer than her own Honda, quite a bit more expensive, especially with the after-market mods. Ava didn’t know which one she lusted after more: the bike or its rider. Though the issue was soon settled.
“Changed your mind about the ride?” The voice that came from behind her was smooth as silk, with that soft Latin lilt that melted like chocolate off his tongue.
Ava fought a shiver as she remembered just how that tongue tasted. Dark and spicy. She turned and he shook the keys at her.
“We could go now,” he offered.
Tempting as it was, she wasn’t that easily swayed. “Ride on your bitch seat? Forget it.” She batted her eyelashes at him comically. “You could just hand them over. Let me take it for a spin myself.”
His expression darkened just a bit.
Ava tried to look doe-eyed and innocent. “I’ll bring it right back,” she added. “Promise.”
He shook his head firmly. “No one drives my ride but me, chica. And we have other promises to keep.”
Ava smirked at him. “I never promised you anything.”
“Your mouth did, muñeca.” He stepped closer and leaned toward her to whisper, “And your nipples.”
She felt the familiar heat pooling in her belly. He was standing close enough for her to catch his scent: faint cologne and motor oil, a tempting combination to a girl like her. His hands were dirty and calloused and she wanted them on her. In the blazing South Dakota sun, his hair shone with glints of warm honey highlights among the darker strands. Ava’s own hands twitched with the urge to run her fingers through it.
Every time she saw him, he got impossibly hotter.
He glanced at the Olds, perusing it casually. “No bike today?”
“I- there’s a dent,” she replied and pointed to the rear fender. “It’s my friend’s car. It’s my fault, so I said I’d fix it for her.”
The corners of his mouth tugged up. His eyes twinkled in the strong sunlight. “You took a hammer to this car just so you’d have an excuse to come and see me? You don’t need an excuse. You could’ve just shown up. No need to abuse
Ava shivered at his chilly tone. Between Jonah’s massive size and the slight air of menace that always seemed to surround him, he was more intimidating than Adam. Or Dalton. Or even Pop.
“I won’t go back,” she promised.
“Good,” he said, reaching for the doorknob. “Because I’m not a fucking babysitter.”
Ava resisted the urge to argue that she needed one. Jonah would never hurt her, not in a million years. But a shouting match would wake Adam and Pop and she’d be forced to explain more than she cared to.
As she watched the front door to the house close, her darker thoughts gave way to new possibilities. She knew Emilio’s name now, and where he worked. And he thought she was a damn good rider, unless he was just blowing smoke at Jonah. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. She was determined to find out, though, because damn, he was hot.
Her bike didn’t need any work, but she knew a vehicle that did.
Chapter Eight
A va found the garage pretty easily. In fact, it wasn’t too far from Maria’s Bar. The low-slung building was set back from the street, surrounded by chain-link fencing. The front gate was open, though, and she turned into the crushed gravel lot. To her left there was a row of Harley’s, all black and chrome, all gleaming in the summer sun. The Interceptor stood out among them as the only racing bike, though it probably cost nearly as much as the others.
She pulled up next to the Honda and killed the engine of the Olds. She heaved open the driver’s side door and planted her boot on the gravel. Instead of heading straight into the garage, though, she stopped long enough to admire the bike in daylight. Painted oxblood red, it had a leather seat to match. The muffler system had been modified and so had the clutch. It was nicer than her own Honda, quite a bit more expensive, especially with the after-market mods. Ava didn’t know which one she lusted after more: the bike or its rider. Though the issue was soon settled.
“Changed your mind about the ride?” The voice that came from behind her was smooth as silk, with that soft Latin lilt that melted like chocolate off his tongue.
Ava fought a shiver as she remembered just how that tongue tasted. Dark and spicy. She turned and he shook the keys at her.
“We could go now,” he offered.
Tempting as it was, she wasn’t that easily swayed. “Ride on your bitch seat? Forget it.” She batted her eyelashes at him comically. “You could just hand them over. Let me take it for a spin myself.”
His expression darkened just a bit.
Ava tried to look doe-eyed and innocent. “I’ll bring it right back,” she added. “Promise.”
He shook his head firmly. “No one drives my ride but me, chica. And we have other promises to keep.”
Ava smirked at him. “I never promised you anything.”
“Your mouth did, muñeca.” He stepped closer and leaned toward her to whisper, “And your nipples.”
She felt the familiar heat pooling in her belly. He was standing close enough for her to catch his scent: faint cologne and motor oil, a tempting combination to a girl like her. His hands were dirty and calloused and she wanted them on her. In the blazing South Dakota sun, his hair shone with glints of warm honey highlights among the darker strands. Ava’s own hands twitched with the urge to run her fingers through it.
Every time she saw him, he got impossibly hotter.
He glanced at the Olds, perusing it casually. “No bike today?”
“I- there’s a dent,” she replied and pointed to the rear fender. “It’s my friend’s car. It’s my fault, so I said I’d fix it for her.”
The corners of his mouth tugged up. His eyes twinkled in the strong sunlight. “You took a hammer to this car just so you’d have an excuse to come and see me? You don’t need an excuse. You could’ve just shown up. No need to abuse
Similar Books
