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Club trouble won’t keep Rock from bringing his son and Allie home.
Rock’s the VP of Phantom Riders MC. Dangerous. Unpredictable. Ruthless. A killer who’ll stop at nothing to keep what’s his. And he wants Allie and their son.
Allie had given Rock her virginity, and then ran away when she got pregnant. Seven years later he shows up at her door, demanding his son, and claiming her.
I don’t know how long I stood there staring at the one man that I never thought I’d see again. So many emotions ran through me in those seconds, one more than all the others-- fear. Fear of what Rock being there meant. Fear of his fierce expression, the glitter of hardness in his unforgiving eyes. If he was anything like the man I’d left behind, I knew that he could be ruthless and dangerous, showing no mercy when he’d been wronged.
And I’d taken his son from him.
What was he doing here? Sam was my first panicked thought, because I had no doubt that Rock was here for him. Was he going to try and take him from me? There could be no other reason he’d tracked us down. Before I let it consume me into being unable to think or move, I brought the door forward to slam it in his square-jawed face.
I had no idea what I was going to do after that. And really, it didn’t matter, because Rock’s large hand stopped the door from closing all the way. With a sharp shove he easily pushed the door open again. I stumbled back, my eyes growing large when he wordlessly and arrogantly stepped into my house and slammed the door behind him. The sound of it closing caused my heart to jump, because it signified the beginning of the end.
“No,” I said, the word sounding as if it had come from a long way off. I shook my head with disbelief. “How-how did you find us?” I whispered, making sure to keep distance between us.
Rock was a mountain of a man, and my gaze moved over him swiftly, realizing that he’d changed since I’d seen him last. Seven years had turned him into six plus feet of pure, hard muscle. His clothes stretched taut over his wide shoulders and hard chest. His tatted arms were bulging with definition and unleashed strength. His square jaw was covered with a light layer of dark whiskers that framed his firm, hard mouth and made him sexier than it should have.
Everything he was feeling was reflected in his hard eyes as they made a thorough sweep over me. As if time hadn’t separated us, I felt my body respond to his potent masculinity, and just managed not to let out a whimper when I felt my nipples harden. And, God, I tried to ignore the buzzing between my thighs. I felt my breath catch and reached inside for the strength not to expose myself to him. Because then I’d be vulnerable.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Tory Richards is a fun-loving grandma who writes smut. Born in 1955 in the small town of Milo, Maine, she's lived most of her life in Florida. Today she lives with her daughter and her family. She has her own woman-cave which she shares with four felines whose main goal in life is getting as much cat hair on everything that they can.
Penning stories by hand and then on manual typewriter at the age of thirteen, Tory was a closet writer until the encouragement of her family prompted her into submitting to a publisher. She's been published since 2005, and has since retired from Disney to focus on family and writing.