Free Never Ever: Book One Perdition MC by Isabel Wroth

an Italian
soda?”
    “Yeah, actually. The sugar would be good.”
    “One raspberry Italian soda, comin up.”
     
    Tara hurried away and Roar made her entire body melt when he
scooped her up and took her over to a nearby stone bench, carefully setting her
down so he could drop to his haunches in front of her. Despite her assuring him
again that she was fine, he was frowning intently at her, hair all sexy and
wild from his ride. Damn, something else she liked about him. “How often this
happen?” He grunted, and she shrugged, dusting the dirt off her hands and
wondering if she was going to be one of those pregnant women she’d read about,
who were constantly in need of an orgasm. If so, she was screwed, because Roar
was just one big walking orgasm waiting to happen. “Two, three times in the
last couple months.” Tara came hurrying back, her thick mane of honey brown
hair flying in the most disgustingly perfect manner around her cute face, with
her soda in hand. “Thanks, how are your balls?” Roar guffawed, not missing how
Tara flinched before she smiled, “Good. I’ll have another chandelier done soon,
maybe another one in time for the show.”
    “That’s great,”
     
    Before she could talk any further at her friend, she
skedaddled as quickly as possible. Roar looked over his shoulder to where she
disappeared through the hothouse, while she sipped thoughtfully on her sweet
raspberry soda. “I scared her.” Roar stated, sounding not quite happy about
that. “It’s not you. She’s got a pretty dark past.” Roar turned back around and
his brows were in his hair, “You looked into her?” He said disbelievingly.
“Yeah. She’s my tenant, clearly hiding a shady past and I wanted to know what
it was. Found out, took steps to protect her.”
    “You did.”
    “Yes?”
    “And just how did you go about all this?”
    “Your condescension is so sweet.”
    “Seriously, babe. What were you gonna do?”
    “Right now, it’s not your business. It’s hers. She has a
problem, then I’ll make it your business, no negotiating.”
     
    She raised her brows and snorted when he finally gave a nod
of acknowledgment, getting up and having to jolt back when he sprung up and
caught her elbows like she was going down. She noticed then that he had grass
stains on his jeans and smelled like dirt, “You go for a roll in the grass or
something?” She asked, lifting up the edge of his cut to see more dirt and
grass stains, “No. Tore a hole in the front lawn at the compound. Had to fill
it back in with sod.”
    “Oh. You can back off, I’m good.”
    “Good. You forgot something.”
     
    She stood there for a second, trying to remember what she’d
forgotten, and then it hit her. “Oh. Right. You’re back.” She rose up on her
toes to touch her lips to his, and his hand slid back into her hair to steady
her. Her soda almost slid from her fingertips because his kiss hit her like an
entire fifth of whiskey, churned up from her toes, warm, bone melting. “Love
that mouth,” He told her gutturally, fingers shifting, gripping and kneading in
her hair until she felt drowsy and sleepy again.
    Shit he could kiss.
    She liked that too.
    Damn.
     
    He strolled with her through the nursery, hand in hand, big
cup of coffee in his free hand that she was doing her best not to sniff at
longingly. He was looking around her place, getting to know her business,
asking about the butterflies she’d hatched. “Caterpillars for now, trying to
keep them in the hot house until they morph. It’ll be
a butterfly house when alls said and done, place to
host small parties, wedding showers, stuff like that.” He’d shot her a weird
look then that she couldn’t quite decipher, and stopped in front of the metal
sculpture, a bird made entirely out of old silverware. “That’s cool as shit.”
He said while he studied it, and she felt her cheeks turn hot, “Thanks. It’s
one of my best.”
     
    Was it weird that it made her happy, when he