Throttle Me (Men of Inked #1) By Chelle Bliss
This book is dedicated to my family,
friends, and readers.
Thank you for the amazing support
you’ve shown me.
I cherish each and every one of you.
This book is intended for a mature audience only.
The Darkness
The moonlight filtered through the pine trees lining the fields, leaving shadows on the pavement. The crisp air that had been missing for months caressed my skin. Cranking up the radio, I sang along to the lyrics from Justin Timberlake’s ”Rock Your Body”. It was just the cool breeze, JT, and me. I couldn’t wait to crawl in my bed, close my eyes, getting lost in a dream world that had nothing to do with my current reality.
The night had been perfect. I had dinner and drinks with my best friend, Sophia, and although I was exhausted from a long workday I felt a sense of serenity. Spending time with Sophia always made me happy. She was like a sister to me, especially when she lived with me for over a year. I felt like part of me had been missing since the day she moved out, leaving me behind.
Dancing in the seat, screaming out the lyrics, I thought about how I wanted someone that would do everything the song described. No one had ever made me feel the way that JT sang about women. The steering wheel shook in my hands and a screeching sound pulled me out of my JT trance.
“Damn it,” I said, hitting the steering wheel with my palm.
The orange flash from my hazards blinked against the dark pavement as I pulled off the road and my car sputtered to a stop. Bad luck seemed to follow me. I squeezed the steering wheel, trying to calm my frazzled nerves. I knew the day would come, the day my car would die, but I prayed it would happen after my next paycheck… no such luck.
Resting my head on the wheel, I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “Great, just f*cking great.” I rocked back and forth, feeling sorry for myself, hitting my head on the cool plastic. I thought about who to call or where to walk. I hadn’t passed a gas station or even a damn streetlight in miles. Without picking up my head I reached for my phone, bringing it to my eyes.
“Shit.” The screen wouldn’t power on after I hit every button I could think to press, but it was useless. It was dead and now I’m totally stranded. What else could possibly go wrong? Sighing, I sat up and glanced in the rearview mirror but only the shadows from the trees filled my view. No cars, neon signs, or streetlights. F*ck.
I placed my hand on my chest to feel the beat of my heart, which was so hard I swear it was audible. Visions from slasher movies flooded my mind. Girl’s deserted on the side of the road until she’s found by a handsome stranger that ends up being a serial killer.
Should I start walking to God knows where? Do I just sit here and wait for a stranger to offer me help? I never liked feeling helpless, I was too smart to be helpless, but it was the only thing I felt in this moment. It could be hours before someone found me in my car.
I grabbed my purse, dead phone, and keys and climbed out of the car. My feet ached in the extra high heels I wore. Leaning against the car, I gave my feet a moment to adjust, as I looked in both directions. Neither of my options close and I was exhausted. My feet f*cking screamed from standing still. Thank God I could sleep in tomorrow after the way this evening was ending. There was a gas station a couple miles back – better to go with what I know than to walk into an uncertain future. I tapped the lock button on my key chain one more time, helping relieve my OCD need to double check everything, before I starting walking away.
Barely clearing the trunk, a single light came over a small hill in the distance, hurting my eyes from the brightness. The roar of the engine grew louder as the distance closed. I waved my arms as a figure came into view, but the a*shole biker drove right passed me as I screamed, “Hey! Hey!” The wind from his bike caused the dust on the road to kick up and fill my mouth.
I turned around, coughing, and screamed toward the bike. I knew it was pointless. There was no way in hell he’d heard me yelling above the roar of his bike, but he had to see me. The red taillight lit up the road as he turned the bike in my direction. I swallowed hard, unsure if this was my best idea of the night – I’d already made too many mistakes to dwell. He was my only hope of getting home.
I stood there like a deer in headlights, unable to move as I gaped at him. My hands tremble as the figure on the bike came to a stop. The engine was almost deafening, as I took in the sight of him on the machine. The bike was a Harley, a Fat Boy, with no windshield, chrome handlebars, and a dark body. He wore black boots, dark jeans, and a dark t-shirt. He was large, muscular, and I sucked in a breath as my eyes reached his handsome and rugged face. A playful grin danced on his lips as he watched me ogle him. F*cking hell.
“Need some help, lady?” he asked, removing his helmet, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. The dark peaks stood up on the top, the sides were short and clipped, and the color matched the sky - dark. I couldn’t see his eyes; a pair of tinted glasses hid them. Could serial killers be so sexy?
“Um, do you have a cell phone I could use to call for a ride?” I asked without taking a step in his direction. Don’t get too close – leave room to run. Who the f*ck was I kidding? I couldn’t make it five feet in these damn shoes.
“Sure.” As he leaned back on his bike, I studied his body as he dug in his pocket. The skin-tight jeans showed his muscles through the denim fabric. Everything clung to him. I wanted to poke him to see if he felt as hard as he looked. What the f*ck is wrong with me?