AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He picked her up in his arms and kissed her hard. “I promise.” When he placed her on the bed, on her back, he covered her body with his much heavier one and slowly pulled up her skirt. “From now on, darlin’, you’ll be spending your Saturday nights with me.” He ran his hand up and down her thigh, each time moving closer to what she knew he really wanted. “And I’ll make sure you remember each and every one of them.”
“Good.” She shivered, wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered in his ear, “Kiss me, Hawk Mosby. Then love me like you’re never going to let me go.”
The End… for now.
* * *
Enjoy the story? Be sure to leave a review! Also, sign-up for my newsletter for exclusive sneak peeks, giveaways, and updates on my next releases.
About the Author
Sharon is theUSA TodayBestselling Author of theDeadly Force Romantic Suspense Series, theKingsmill Courtships Contemporary Romance series, and theDevil’s Renegades MC series.
She’s repped by Deidre Knight and Kristy Hunter of The Knight Agency.
Join Sharon online to learn more about her books and to sign up for her newsletter atwww.sharonwray.com.
Havoc
Kelly Lord
ChapterOne
Blowing the loose tendrils of hair from my grease-dappled forehead, I’m determined to get this engine up and running even if it kills me. I’ve spent all day on my back beneath this pig of a car. I’m in desperate need of a coffee break. Bodie and I are swamped with work, picking up the slack from when Dad hung up his wrench through ill health. He and our mom moved to the coast, hoping the sea air would help with his emphysema. He can’t fix cars with an oxygen tank strapped to his back, poor guy. It killed him to leave, but Mom called us yesterday saying they both love early retirement. Which is good, I guess. The garage is like his third child. It’s our family legacy. Our grandpa started Blake Autos here in Mountview back in the early fifties, and we’re determined to keep it going strong and hand it down to the next generation. Well, that’s the plan. That’s if we don’t fall victim to all the gang warfare tearing up these parts. Bodie is a member of the Knight Hawks Motorcycle Club, fronted by his childhood bestie and the embodiment of all my dirty fantasies, Jason Knight. Not that he’ll ever notice. The fucker still treats me like a kid at twenty-three. I’m only two years younger than he is. To him, I’ll always be Bodie’s little sister. Jason will never see me as anything else. I’m probably the only person besides his mom who still calls him by his birth name. Nowadays he goes by his nickname, Havoc. That’s what his biker buddies call him. The folks around here call them a gang. But they’re nothing like the thugs who rode into town last year. Those guys call themselves the Jackals, and like a pack of savage dogs, they’ve preyed on the good people of Mountview, picking off their businesses one by one.
“Bodie, are you there?” I call out. “I need you to hand me a torque wrench.” I hold out my hand, flexing my fingers.
“Just a second,” Bodie replies from across the garage. “I’m on the phone.”
The sound of a metallic clink near my workstation arouses my suspicion. Someone else is snooping around where they shouldn’t be. Using the heels of my work boots, I roll out on my creeper, my eyes bulging as I see who it is.
“Need a hand, Peaches?” Jason asks, using a sweet nickname that means anything but. When we were in school, he said it was because I had a fat ass. It got a laugh out of Bodie, but it gave me a complex. Thanks to him, I wore nothing but Spanx for years. But he was as stunning then as he is now, only broader, sexier. Even his shirts cling to his muscles like they don’t want to let go. Jason grins at me, smug as fuck. He's looking down at me, his hair dangling in front of his forehead in dark, messy strands. God, he's handsome, and the arrogant fucker knows it too. Those glinting grey eyes make me wish I could read minds, wondering what the hell he's thinking about. Probably some witty jibe to tease me with. I half expect him to toss the wrench across the garage just to be a dick.
“Not from you,” I reply, trying to sound unaffected by him. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm. “That’s an adjustable spanner, not a torque wrench. I thought bikers could find their way around a toolbox, or is it only your own junk you’re familiar with?”
I’ve insulted him this way plenty of times, insinuating his brains are located far south of his skull. Jason chortles at my comment, then scratches his stubbly chin with his thumbnail, probably thinking of a comeback. I stand and fold my arms beneath my tits, waiting for my chance to retaliate.
“If you weren’t Ratchet’s sister, a remark like that would’ve landed you across my lap,” Jason mentions, hinting at what he could do if he wanted. “I would have spanked some manners into that peachy ass of yours.”
“But you won’t because I’m Bodie’s little sister?” I scoff at that, using my brother’s christened name.
Jason's eyes flare with surprise. "You sound disappointed."
Not that I’m inviting Jason to smack my ass. My overalls are padded, but what lies beneath is just a lace thong. And like fuck am I stripping down to that, even if it is my secret kink. Imagine the rush I’d get if I was able to let go. Not with my brother listening. Not with the garage door wide open. But damn, I’m thinking about it. My face is getting hotter, probably looking beet red by this point because my clit likes the sound of that too, and it’s growing nice and plump between my labia.
"You wish," I retort.
“Hey, quit ribbing my baby sis and get over here, will you?” Bodie cuts in, keeping his finger over the phone speaker. “You should hear this. It involves you too.”
Jason nudges my jaw with his knuckles, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Maybe next time, Peaches."
I harrumph loudly. "Mind you don't trip over that ego."
What I say and do and what I fantasize about are two different things. I may be scowling with disgust, but in my head, I’ve just climbed him like a tree. At least in my head there's no risk of being rejected.
“You’re so easy to tease,” Jason says to me, his tone softening. He turns around and picks up the torque wrench, then hands it to me, proving he knew what it was all along.
I snatch it from him with an unfriendly snarl. “Get out of my workspace, jerk.”
