Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance

Read Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance for Free Online

Book: Read Biker Chicks: An Anthology of Hot MC Romance for Free Online
Authors: A.J. Downey
Tags: Manuscript Template
tell-tale sign that I had a killer hangover from the countless shots of cheap tequila I drank last night, on an empty stomach. The air was thick, stinking of sex, cigarette smoke and stale beer as I took a deep breath, attempting to fill my lungs. I knew I need to open my eyes but I was leery, who knows what I might discover. I had no clue where I was. But I was aware of the fact that I was naked and if the gentle snore beside me was any clue, I was not alone. What the fuck did I do?
    I cracked one eye open. I was in a motel room. No doubt by the old shit wallpaper and the nicotine stained oil paintings on the walls, it was a fucking pay by the hour dive where the cockroaches and rats are the size of alley cats. I slowly allowed my other eye to open and to my left I discovered my companion. Big fellow, he was facing away so I couldn’t see what he looked like, but by the size of his shoulder and back, I could tell he was built. I didn’t see ink, no visible tattoos on his back either. Sliding my hand slowly over the mattress toward his side of the bed, I cracked a smile when I touched warm bare flesh under the covers.
    As nice as it would be to stay around and find out what exactly I missed during my inebriation, it was time to clear out and get my ass back on the road. I was halfway there and not about to let one night of unguarded fun stop me from getting what was rightfully mine. I had six days to get back home and the clock was ticking. Being late was out of the question, I didn’t dare, the consequences would be unimaginable.
    I slipped out from under the covers and cringed as my bare feet hit the sticky, crusty shag carpeting. I had been in more dumps during my twenty-six years than I could count, but this one took the cake. I would have given anything for a prescription bottle full of penicillin about now, as I trotted on tiptoe into the washroom. At least there were clean towels hanging on the towel bar and complimentary bottles of shampoo and soap. This dump was beyond raunchy but I had suffered worse than this and survived.
    I pulled back the shower curtain, surprised to find no old bathtub ring. But the accumulation of black, slimy mold built up in the corners of the ugly yellow tile was somewhat disturbing. Like I said before, I’ve survived worse.
    At least there was hot water, for this I was grateful. It had been days since I had a real shower and gas station washrooms will only allow for a certain amount of personal hygiene. As I stepped under the shower head allowing the water to soak my hair, I thought again of my overnight companion. I was hoping this was his room. I prayed I could get out of here without footing the bill even if by chance it had been my hairbrained scheme to get a room for the night with a stranger.
    The shampoo smelled like the bug spray that my gran used to use in the kitchen when I was little. It was a happy memory at least, those were rare. Cream rinse would have been a bonus, since my unruly hair hadn’t seen the inside of a salon in years. Come to think of it, a day at the spa would have been wonderful about now. But, that was the past. My life was different now.
    “Bella?” a male voice asked.
    I hadn’t heard that name in nearly ten years. It was bone chilling, but hearing it said in a low gravelly tone made it sound sexy, inviting even. This voice must have belonged to my new acquaintance. How he knew that name was a mystery. As sexy as it felt coming off his lips, I didn’t want to hear him say it again.
    “Never call me that again!”
    I popped my head out from behind the shower curtain and saw for the first time, sober, the face of my sleeping partner. Soft, gentle-looking blue eyes stared at me from behind thick, black lashes. He had jet black, spiky hair, trimmed short at the sides and back. But for the five o’clock shadow dusting his chin, he gave the impression of a preppy choir boy. Last night must have been something. How did I end up with him in a dump like

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