Hung (Mister Hotshot Book 1) by Anne Marsh

Author:Anne Marsh [Marsh, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Romantic Comedy, Fiction
Published: 2017-08-11T18:30:00+00:00

9

SARAH JO

The Harley comes up fast behind me. The powerful cycle devours the road, easily chewing through the small distance I’ve managed to put between myself and the camp. Low-slung with a custom black paint job, the bike pales in comparison, however, to the helmeted man riding it. Pick hugs the powerful machine with his legs, all black leather and raw power. He looks hot.

Good enough to eat.

And almost-sex with Pick rocked my world in more ways than one yesterday. I’d pulled him into the storage shed because I’d known I was running out of time, so I’d planned on taking what I could. If you only get one pass through the world’s best buffet, you load up your plate and you start with dessert first. Screw vegetables and eating what you should—you go for the good stuff and you shovel it in. Life’s too short not to get my hands all over my hunky hotshot. What I hadn’t expected, however, was that Pick would make me feel like something besides a mind-blowing orgasm. Why does he have to be so hot? And so freaking sweet underneath that tough guy exterior? He makes me dream about curling up next to him, into him. Letting him take care of me as I pour out my worries and concerns. I can’t explain why I feel this way, but I know it’s a mistake.

In fact, it’s a super familiar mistake, and one I swore I’d never make again. There are plenty of enjoyable uses for the penis-owning members of society, but expecting them to stick around and partner up isn’t happening. So that makes my fascination with Pick pure trouble.

Pure temptation.

I can ignore him, right? That’s a possibility. I’ve left camp so it’s not like I’m on pancake duty. He has no business following me, plus I could always argue that I didn’t recognize him with the helmet on. Driving on and on is a tempting thought. I cranked the radio up as soon as I cleared the parking lot and Thad’s line of sight, going pedal to the metal somewhere else. Anywhere else. Unfortunately, the near-empty gas gauge reminds me that I’ll need to refill before I do too much more driving. I’m certainly not making it to Mexico before I’m coasting on empty.

Driving like a mad woman isn’t the wisest of moves, but I’m not going to lie to myself. Thad scares me. He wields his badge like a weapon, and I’m in his sights. He’s already insinuated that I can make up my bad behavior in the backseat of his patrol car. After I’d peeled away from the camp, it had taken the next fifteen miles of windy, twisty highway to get my panic under control.

I half expect Pick to pass and cut me off, but instead he drops in behind my Honda. Not crowding my bumper any, but right up on my butt where I can’t possibly miss him. He flashes his lights and jerks a thumb to his left.

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