needed.
Stopping, I swallowed a half a pill and plastered on an “I’m happy to help you, you weirdo who gets out of bed this early in the morning to come to a bookstore” smile and rushed across the parking lot. Because life wanted to throw me a big “fuck you” this early in the morning, I tripped, my bag flew from my hands, and everything fell out of it. Everything.
“Fuck, really?” I stared at my stuff, willing it to go back in my bag magically, when I heard a voice that should not be familiar to me already but it was.
“Need a hand?”
And there he stood. Looking all James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause , popped collar and all, except if I remembered correctly, Dystopian Biker had more muscle underneath that tight black tee and leather jacket.
“Hello.” He waved a hand in front of my face, and at that moment, I realized I hadn’t replied to him yet.
Shit, I’d gone catatonic.
I was pretty sure he thought I had turned into a statue, but I was struck stupid and motionless by him. He was a guy who would be described in a book as being take-my-virginity hot. In the sun’s light, I could see the definition of his strong jawline and the subtle five-o’clock shadow he was rocking at almost eight in the morning. His features were sharp and hard, like they were carved out of stone, giving him that edgy look that all bad boys had. But what had me losing my brain cells were his eyes—the stark storm-gray that looked back at me seemed to see further into me than anyone had ever bothered to look.
Past my fakeness.
“Um, Harley?” He chuckled. Oh god, that sound…that sound almost made my knees buckle. He had to be a god of some kind. I swallowed the tumbleweed in my throat and tried to act normal. Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.
“No, um, no, I’m okay,” I managed after my tongue started to work. Without thinking, I bent down to pick up my things and get the fuck away from him before I demanded I have his babies or something stupid, but I snapped back up from the pain that radiated from my back. I’d forgotten about that. I’d forgotten about it all for a minute, but the pain made it all come back.
“Shit.” I winced, resisting the urge to massage the pain.
“You all right? Did you jerk your back?” He reached out, then stopped, but I didn’t miss the look of concern that flashed across his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” But when I reached again, my back screamed at me that I wasn’t. Dammit!
Without a word, he bent down and picked up the crap from my purse, pausing only long enough for me to curse the world again on my prescription bottle before he shoved that back in the bag, too.
“Thanks, I guess I didn’t notice that”—I looked around him to see what I’d tripped on and saw absolutely nothing—“sidewalk there,” I finished lamely.
“It happens. You sure you’re good?” He was staring at me with those intensely seeing eyes. Like he knew.
“Yeah, I must have slept wrong or something.” I grabbed my bag out of his hand and attempted to make the smooth exit I should have made one minute ago, but he held fast to the strap.
“Hold up, you are not wondering why I’m here so early?” he asked with a smile that caused a flutter in my stomach that I only associated with reading steamy romance novels.
“It’s a store. I assume you want to buy something?” Yeah, that sounded much more like my fake than the earlier idiot.
“I like it,” he said, eyes slowly roaming over my body like he was committing every part of me to memory. His gaze started at my crappy shoes and slowly roamed over my body, slowly fucking me, pausing long enough on my breasts to cause heat to flood into my cheeks, then finally making their way to my face, locking eyes with me. And he made no apology for it. Did he just slowly fuck me with his eyes, like I’d read about in books?
“Excuse me?” I managed.
“The book.” He smirked and pulled the book I recommended to him yesterday from behind
Stopping, I swallowed a half a pill and plastered on an “I’m happy to help you, you weirdo who gets out of bed this early in the morning to come to a bookstore” smile and rushed across the parking lot. Because life wanted to throw me a big “fuck you” this early in the morning, I tripped, my bag flew from my hands, and everything fell out of it. Everything.
“Fuck, really?” I stared at my stuff, willing it to go back in my bag magically, when I heard a voice that should not be familiar to me already but it was.
“Need a hand?”
And there he stood. Looking all James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause , popped collar and all, except if I remembered correctly, Dystopian Biker had more muscle underneath that tight black tee and leather jacket.
“Hello.” He waved a hand in front of my face, and at that moment, I realized I hadn’t replied to him yet.
Shit, I’d gone catatonic.
I was pretty sure he thought I had turned into a statue, but I was struck stupid and motionless by him. He was a guy who would be described in a book as being take-my-virginity hot. In the sun’s light, I could see the definition of his strong jawline and the subtle five-o’clock shadow he was rocking at almost eight in the morning. His features were sharp and hard, like they were carved out of stone, giving him that edgy look that all bad boys had. But what had me losing my brain cells were his eyes—the stark storm-gray that looked back at me seemed to see further into me than anyone had ever bothered to look.
Past my fakeness.
“Um, Harley?” He chuckled. Oh god, that sound…that sound almost made my knees buckle. He had to be a god of some kind. I swallowed the tumbleweed in my throat and tried to act normal. Yeah, that wasn’t gonna happen.
“No, um, no, I’m okay,” I managed after my tongue started to work. Without thinking, I bent down to pick up my things and get the fuck away from him before I demanded I have his babies or something stupid, but I snapped back up from the pain that radiated from my back. I’d forgotten about that. I’d forgotten about it all for a minute, but the pain made it all come back.
“Shit.” I winced, resisting the urge to massage the pain.
“You all right? Did you jerk your back?” He reached out, then stopped, but I didn’t miss the look of concern that flashed across his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” But when I reached again, my back screamed at me that I wasn’t. Dammit!
Without a word, he bent down and picked up the crap from my purse, pausing only long enough for me to curse the world again on my prescription bottle before he shoved that back in the bag, too.
“Thanks, I guess I didn’t notice that”—I looked around him to see what I’d tripped on and saw absolutely nothing—“sidewalk there,” I finished lamely.
“It happens. You sure you’re good?” He was staring at me with those intensely seeing eyes. Like he knew.
“Yeah, I must have slept wrong or something.” I grabbed my bag out of his hand and attempted to make the smooth exit I should have made one minute ago, but he held fast to the strap.
“Hold up, you are not wondering why I’m here so early?” he asked with a smile that caused a flutter in my stomach that I only associated with reading steamy romance novels.
“It’s a store. I assume you want to buy something?” Yeah, that sounded much more like my fake than the earlier idiot.
“I like it,” he said, eyes slowly roaming over my body like he was committing every part of me to memory. His gaze started at my crappy shoes and slowly roamed over my body, slowly fucking me, pausing long enough on my breasts to cause heat to flood into my cheeks, then finally making their way to my face, locking eyes with me. And he made no apology for it. Did he just slowly fuck me with his eyes, like I’d read about in books?
“Excuse me?” I managed.
“The book.” He smirked and pulled the book I recommended to him yesterday from behind
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