Twisted Asphalt (Asphalt Outlaw Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

lifted and fell, an arm draped over the
back of his chair as he leaned back. “Are you going to tell me how you really
hurt your wrist?”
    “I fell.” Amy scooted her chair back and jumped up to move
to the stove.
    Uh huh. How many times had he heard that one? Mace watched
her fill a teapot with water, slamming it on the burner while she lit it. “That
would explain the sprain, but not the bruises that look identical to a hand
print.”
    Amy visibly stiffened at the stove, not turning to look at
him. He knew she was fishing for a lie by how long she was taking to formulate
her answer. “Maggie and I were playing at the shop. She grabbed my wrist. I
bruise easily.”
    He hated games. He had to play one with the club, but he
wasn’t going to with her. He damn sure didn’t want her playing games with him.
Rising out of the chair, he moved over to her. “If you say so.”
    She turned, but he was already in her space. Her eyes
widened as she backed up, her butt slamming into the corner of the counter. “I
say so. Um, what are you doing?”
    “This,” he murmured and rested a hand on either side of her
hips on the countertop, leaning slightly toward her. Her hands were warm
against his chest. He felt them through the cotton T-shirt he wore. They were
so tiny resting against him, a sign of how fragile she really was, even though
she liked to put up a tough front.
    Amy’s head tilted back when his finger hooked under her
chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. He saw curiosity behind the veil of
doubt and that spurred him onward. Knuckles were a gentle caress down her
jawline as his eyes dropped to her cupid-bow lips, plump and inviting. She was
a temptress and she had no clue. He dragged his thumb over her succulent lower
lip, feeling her sharply intake a breath of excitement.
    Mace’s hand dropped, fingers curling into her belt loop,
tugging her closer to him. He nearly growled in pleasure when her nails raked
his chest through his shirt, crumpling the material in her hands. Her heat
melted against his own as he lowered his head, not quite allowing his lips to
touch hers. They hovered there, tempting her to take what she wanted.
    When she lifted up to capture his lips, he jerked back a
hair, a teasing grin offered when she whimpered in protest. Body pressed
against hers, his hand came up to gently take her wounded one in his, lowering
his mouth inch by agonizing inch until—
    “What is going on in here?”
     

CHAPTER 4
     
    Mood killer much?
    Stone’s voice was hard and threatening. Mace silently prayed
Stone wasn’t about to stomp a mudhole in his ass and walk it out. Luckily, he
was still holding Amy’s injured wrist in his hand.
    Mace glanced at the wide-eyed Amy, who looked like a deer
caught in headlights. He cleared his throat and stepped away from her, patting
the top of the wrapped wrist. “Amy here hurt her wrist when she was wrestling
with Maggie. It was swollen, so I figured I would wrap it up for her before it
got worse and she’d have to go to the doctor to have it looked at.”
    He moved away from Amy as she turned toward the stove and
the now whistling pot. While she poured them a cup, he moved to the table,
glancing at Stone. He had what might have been an amused look on his face, or
well, at least that was what he hoped it was. He quietly thanked Amy for the
cup of tea when she handed it to him.
    “I need a word with the prospect, Ames.” Stone pulled out a
chair for him at the kitchen table, lowering his bulky form into it. “Alone.”
    Ah shit, here we go.
    Amy looked at Mace, then back to her dad. “Sure, okay.”
Grabbing her cup, she nodded to the men and headed out of the kitchen.
    Stone watched his daughter leave, then turned his attention
back to Mace.
    Mace wanted to squirm. He felt like he got caught with his
damn pants around his ankles, jacking off to a porn magazine. The deadpan gaze
Stone gave him was something Mace had perfected years ago, but he had a feeling
it came