Page 56 of Fly's Path

Her body is telling me that she wants it just as much as I do, but it’s her mind that has me questioning what she wants, even though all I want is to kiss her for as long as possible.

Bringing Sheridan back to my home was the worst best idea I’ve ever had. There was no way we were going to get any privacy back at the clubhouse. My brothers would have enjoyed tormenting me too much.

It seems bringing Sheri back is just as much torment.

This was supposed to be simple, but she’s anything but simple.

Does she mean what I think she means when she says she doesn’t know how to tie a cherry stem? So far, every kiss hasbeen full of passion but lacking finesse. Was she trying to tell me she doesn’t date much?

Because that I could believe.

But how would that be possible? She’s beautiful, witty, and says what she thinks.

Games are the worst thing men and women can do to a relationship.

Sheri says she doesn’t want one. But the question she asked makes it seem like she does.

Before I get in too deep with her, I should probably find out if she is one of the authors who could possibly be in danger or just one of the friends. If I ask her what she does, then she’s going to ask what I do. And telling her I build bikes, which is partially true, isn’t going to satisfy her.

Watching the flames flicker in her eyes almost pushes me past reason.

Is it unreasonable? The whole point of coming here was to make out. She was so clear about that.

“What do you do?”

And our minds are completely in sync as she asks me that, though she isn’t trying to ascertain my safety. Or is she?

This could look like a lot. Rich men aren’t usually known for being good men. Then again, I don’t consider myself to be good in any way, shape, or form. “I build custom motorcycles for the club’s shop. What about you?” Say you’re a secretary or dentist—she does have good teeth—anything but a writer.

“I’m an author.”

No. Not her. Maybe she hasn’t been published yet. That would take her off our serial killers’ list of possible targets. “Have you published yet?”

“I’m not traditionally published if that’s what you mean, but yeah, I’ve published a few books.”

That could be less than a handful. Grasping at straws won’t keep my woman safe.

My woman…

Do I really mean it like that?

My woman…Sheri is my woman.

Well, that changes things.

“Are you okay?”

No. I’m not. I kissed you a couple of times, and somehow my mind has laid claim to you. This is complete insanity. “What type of books do you write?”

That should kill time for me to figure out my mind and come to terms with the fact that this isn’t going to end in two weeks and I need to figure out how to keep you safe while not getting either of the three boys who seem to be walking trouble magnets murdered, find a drug dealer, and figure out ways for us to have time to make out as often as possible.

“My friends tell me that I should write romance, but I write sci-fi…maybe I should switch that up to sigh-fi. That might be fun.”

“What name do you write under?”

“Sheridan Wholes.”

Why does that name sound familiar? “Is Wholes your real name?”