Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

Larkin: It looks like the dad is here, so your hottie is alone at home. Get it girl!

Laughing, I shake my head at her. When the seasons change and winter eases into spring and summer, the new faces we get to see are exciting, giving us something to talk about. And now that the tourist season is almost upon us, I can only imagine Larkin readying herself for a summer romance. After an isolated winter, having a brand-new, sexy guy sauntering around like he owns the place is the most excitement our part of Anchor Bay has seen in a while.

I tap out my reply, “I’m studying,” and hit send. With a smile still firmly in place, I stand and pad over to the window. Settling on the bench seat Dad built for me, I look out into the garden, and I’m startled by what I find. It’s not full dark yet, but both our gardens are illuminated by the yellow lights that trail toward the back of the property. There in all his half-naked beauty is Rogue. Weights gripped in each hand, sweat dripping from his toned, inked torso, and his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he lifts and lowers the heavy metal.

With every movement, his arms bulge and tense, and his abs, which are cut with prominent dips and peaks, as are his obliques that look good enough to trail with my tongue. Most times, we only gawk at guys like him in magazines or online, but right here, almost in my backyard, is a real-life hottie that has me wanting to climb out this window and get even closer.

With my schoolwork forgotten, I settle in for the show. After his weights, he drops down and starts push-ups, which allows me to ogle his back. He oozes strength as he completes fifty in no time at all.

The black shorts he’s wearing hang low on his hips, and I notice how his ass curves in the flimsy material. I have never seen a guy like him in real life, and there is no way I can deny that he is breathtaking. A walking piece of art.

When he’s on his feet again, he tips his head, locking his dark gaze on mine, sending a wave of white-hot embarrassment through me. He caught me looking. His mouth quirks, and he turns to face me fully. Every inch of him shimmers in the light, glistening with sweat, and I feel my cheeks heat.

Rogue lifts his hand, two fingers crooking, calling me to him. Like a fighter would challenge his opponent in the ring, this man is challenging me to come down to where he is. I want to shake my head no, but I find myself moving on autopilot. Slipping on my flip-flops, I head down the steps to the back door, which leads into our garden. Since the houses are built with community in mind, we don’t have a fence blocking their side and ours.

“Enjoy the show?” Rogue arches a brow at me, a lock of hair hanging over his left eye as he watches me intently. Heat searing through me from his stare.

“I . . . I heard a noise.” Inwardly, I cringe at the stupid words coming from my mouth. “I just looked out the window for a second.”

He smiles. He fucking smiles, and my heart does stupid flips in my chest. “That’s a mighty long second you had going there. I mean . . .” He shrugs, satisfaction at catching me painted across his handsome face. “I did my weights, then my push-ups, and then only did you move.”

My mouth falls open, but no words come out. He saw me all that time I was gawking from my bedroom window. Shame flushes itself through me. My cheeks heat, and my eyes lower, but my mistake is clear when I notice the bulge behind the soft material of his shorts. Quickly, I flick my gaze back to his, and I pray the ground will open and swallow me.

“Like the view?” he challenges, taking a few steps toward me, and I can’t move. I’m frozen in place, watching him stalk me like a predator. A hunter after its prey. When he stops inches from me, the scent of him engulfs me. It reminds me of hot summer nights and spicy drinks in winter. I inhale his smell of masculine testosterone and intense craving.

Finding my voice, I say, “It’s not bad. Seen better.”

A chuckle vibrates in his chest. The sound is low, gravelly, and I wonder how it would feel if I were to lay my hands on his chest in that moment. “I’m sure you have, little spy.” He leans down, picking up a weight, holding it out to me. “How strong are you?” One dark brow arches in challenge and I grab the heavy item, which causes me to gasp.

“This is heavy.” When I meet his gaze, I notice the glint of mischief dancing in the darkness. Those dark orbs are bottomless, and I could so easily get lost in them. Most romance novels talk about the bad guy, the one you need to stay away from, but I find myself wanting to run toward him.

“Life is heavy, little spy,” he responds. A glint of something sparks in his eye for a second before it’s gone. “And if you’re not strong enough, the weight of it will bring you to your knees.” There’s more to his warning, something personal, lingering under the cocky exterior.

“I’m strong enough to handle anything life throws my way.” With my words, I attempt to sound grown-up more than I am, but if I’m honest, all I know is Anchor Bay. I’ve been cocooned from the real world by my folks. Now that my dad is gone, all I have is Mom, and I wonder if I can really leave her.

Rogue shrugs, but his narrowed gaze is locked on me, penetrating through my defenses, as if he