Nobody screws me. I take who I want, when I want, and I always leave them wanting more.
I want more too. Hurt this deep doesn't heal.
After meeting June, I know she’s the fix I need for the pain.
Her family’s full of cops? So what?
All I want is her. Those luscious curves, the lips that won't quit, hips that make my heart pound like a drum.
My outlaw brothers say me and her together will tear this whole town apart.
I don’t give a damn.
I never wanted to come home. There’s nothing here but old wounds too bitter to heal.
The day I returned, I met Ram. He’s an outlaw biker built like a god, but there’s nothing divine about his desires.
When he tells me he needs an old lady to stay in his club, we start a dangerous charade.
He gets a woman and time. I get my sheriff dad off my back. Breathing room.
But every breath around Ram is lightning hot and undeniable.
I can’t be with him for real. He’s every kind of wrong there’s ever been. Unless we’re careful, we’ll rip our lives apart.
But what’s happening between us feels too right to ignore, no matter the cost...
Read an excerpt:
June had to stop and watch him approach. He was that sort of man. Tall, heavily built. He wore a tight black t-shirt, practically painted to the heavily chiseled body underneath. Long sexy lines and delicate shapes of ink decorated the steel-hard skin of his arms.
She watched his pectorals shift, feeling something akin to hypnosis. A beard, dark and thick, was cut close under his chin. His gaze stared a hole right at June, and suddenly she felt under-dressed and over-dressed, both.
Under-dressed, because that kind of gaze made her feel close to naked. And over-dressed, because that kind of gaze from that kind of man made her want to get naked. He was like sex incarnate, and she wasn't sure if she could even survive a round with him in the bed.
And part of her desperately wanted to find out.
Her hair was long and chestnut and she pushed it to one side as he approached, suddenly not sure of how to approach the use of that fleshy thing between her teeth.
A tongue, was that what it was called? Words failed her, suddenly ending an alliance forged years and years ago when she'd picked up her first book of poetry at a swap meet.
“Radiator’s shot,” he said, taking a cursory look at the damage. “That’s what you get for picking a foreign car.”
She tried to compose herself and say something smart. “Who shoots a radiator?”
Oh, yes, June. Very smart. Let him think you’re an idiot, let him put his guard down.
He smiled, though, and took a long look at her, up and down. Appreciative, making a clear judgment in his head. There was a leather jacket vest in his hands, dark white and red patches on its surface. She couldn’t make any of them out.
June found herself vainly hoping he liked what he saw. It was stupid—idiotic, really—she was a woman with a personality and a goddamn college degree. She was more than a long pair of legs in tight jeans and a pair of breasts in a slender shirt, more than a piece of meat. But there was something about this man’s vibe, something about his scent, that made her kind of want to be seen as a piece of meat...
About Lydia Pax
Lydia Pax loves to write stories featuring hot alpha badasses falling in love with strong, smart women in the midst of a ton of excitement, turmoil, and intrigue. Life is strange, beautiful, and wonderful, but sometimes it can be a little too boring. Her stories spice the day up with enough heat to need a cold drink nearby as you read and always close with a HEA.