Brody and Knox are the epitome of dark, brooding, alpha holes that ooze testosterone and scream bad boy in charge.
They’re everything I’ve always competed with as a dominant lesbian. Yet when I see them with her, I’m fascinated.
Drawn in and unable to walk away.
So tell me why I was a no-strings-attached kind of girl when I met Hannah, determined to use her newly discovered bisexuality to steal her from her men for some fun, yet now I’m aching to fall to my knees and suddenly be a good girl for Brody and Knox with Hannah at my side?
Attention!!
I said it with Twisted Ink, and Twisted Lace is no different.
Leave your expectations for world-class literature at the door and worry more about if your batteries are charged, or if your partner is free for the next few hours.
This one is for the sluts 2.0.
Chapter 1 – Lex
“You fucking rusty, worthless piece of shit. If you don’t let it go, I’m dropping you off at the scrap yard, Sally. I swear to God, you’ll get chopped up into tiny little scrappy pieces if you don’t cooperate with me right the fuck now!” I stomped my feet like a spoiled child as frustration got the better of me.
“You okay under there?” A random voice asked from above and scared the shit out of me, making me lurch forward, banging my forehead off the undercarriage of my car where I was laying under it. “Jesus, sorry.”
“Ouch.” I cursed, holding my head and sliding out from under Sally, my broken-down muscle car on the side of the road to see who interrupted me and instantly got blinded by the sun as I tried to look up that high.
“Here.” The voice said as he stepped in front of the blazing sun, casting a shadow over me and held his hand out to help me up. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” I snapped, taking his hand and letting him pull me from the dirty shoulder. Even on my feet, I had to look way up to see his face. I admitted, “I was just too busy shit-talking my car to notice that someone had stopped.” His motorcycle was parked behind Sally on the shoulder, and it freaked me out that someone had gotten that close to me without even noticing him. Again.
“I heard that.” He grinned and finally let go of my hand as his eyes roamed down my body. I knew my style was over the top, so I was used to getting stares, but there was something more to his gaze as he took in my appearance. “Nice boots.” He nodded to my black chunky combat boots.
“I’d say thanks, but I don’t think you actually like them.” I retorted, raising my brow at him in a challenge. Even though I had no fucking clue who he was, there was something about him that just… pissed me off.
“I don’t.” He shrugged and then nodded to the flat tire I had been trying to change. “Want some help?”
“Want?” I looked down at the shredded rubber. “No.” I sighed and kicked the useless tire iron I’d been trying to get free of the jack. But it was as rusty as my soul and stuck inside the joint. I couldn’t change the tire without getting the tool free to take the lug nuts off. “However, I think I don’t have a choice.”
He squatted down, and I moved to the side as he twisted the iron twice and then pulled it free from the rusty jack holding my car up. He made it look impressively easy. Which was also impressively annoying.
I rolled my eyes at his back and leaned against the trunk of my car as he loosened the nuts. I took a deep breath as I fought the urge to tell him never mind and to get lost, because I had an appointment I was already running late for as it was and I didn’t feel like making it worse by shooing away my only help at the moment.
He worked silently, removing the lug nuts that hadn’t budged even when I stood on the handle of the iron ten minutes ago before it was stuck in the jack. Once again, making it look annoyingly easy. I observed him working silently, matching his silence, and had no choice but to admire his appearance.
It wasn’t the tight Wrangler jeans that hugged his massive thighs that caught my attention. It wasn’t even the way his biceps flexed under the hem of his white t-shirt as he worked.
It was his ink.
Ink was my love language. Sometimes, it felt like the only way I could connect with any other human on Earth. I was usually too unconventional for most people to relate to, but tattoos were universal. Most everyone in the United States had at least one these days or could admire the art behind them instead of judging the person wearing them.
Except for people like me. Because I was covered in them. Literally from head to toe. I had one above my right eyebrow and a large one covering my entire neck down over my chest. Both arms and legs had them, and mostly, I was just too much for people to handle.
But the stranger had them up both arms too, and it was some sort of common ground.
My phone rang in the back pocket of my cut-off shorts, distracting me from the black ink swirls above his left elbow and I answered it. “I’m on my way.”
“You’re late and your appointment is here,” Dallin replied. Neither of us were big on pleasantries on a good day, and the morning had already started out royally wrong.
“I have a flat tire,” I stated, cutting off his retort.
“I thought you knew your way around that car well enough to change a tire.”
“I do.” I snapped, “And if the piece of shit jack wasn’t so rusted, I would have been done an hour ago.”
“I’ll send Parker to come help you.”
“No need.” I rubbed my forehead as the stranger looked up at me from his crouch, remaining silent. “This random dude on a Harley pulled over to help. If I disappear, start there. It’s always the bikers that are the weirdos.”
“Not funny.” Dallin deadpanned. “You safe?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I droned on, annoyed, and the stranger’s hand slipped off the tire iron, hitting the ground and busting his knuckle wide open, making me cringe. “I have to go; the biker dude is trying to bleed all over Sally’s rims.” I hung the phone up and pocketed it, reaching into the back window and grabbing a towel from my gym bag. “Here.”
“Thanks.” He grumbled, not making eye contact as he wrapped his hand in the towel and then went back to work. He worked so fast that I hardly had time to worry about my now very late start to my day before he was wiping his greasy hands off on the towel and standing up. “You’re all set. Don’t drive over forty-five on that spare and get it replaced ASAP.”
“You sound like a professional.” I grabbed the tools from the shoulder and tossed them in the trunk as he lingered next to the car. He didn’t make any move toward leaving, so I paused, “What?”
“Why didn’t you call for help before I came by?” He looked up and down the road, which sat empty. No other car had passed in the time it’d taken him to change the tire. “Why struggle?”
Closing the trunk, I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not a damsel in distress kind of girl. I would have gotten it eventually if you hadn’t helped.”
He scoffed and shook his head, walking back toward his bike. “Sure.”
