LEATHER AND LACE (BAD BOYS & GOOD GIRLS, #1) Read Online Free

gotten his phone number, sexted him and he had their numbers blocked.
    “Come on now. Don’t be like that.” The one in the passenger seat shook her head. “Brandon, just give us a few minutes and we’re sure to put a smile on your face.”
    “Don’t start that stuff! I’m busy.” He walked away from the car as whichever Jamison sister seated behind the wheel started to lift her skirt.
    The muscles along his neck pulled taut, and he pushed his hat up off his brow. Even in the frigid temperature, he felt his face heat. These girls were way out of control and had been on his tail back in Annona for a couple of years now. Somehow, they’d found out that Spurs and Leather was his club. He didn’t know how much they knew, and so far, he refused to discuss the club with women who weren’t much older than his younger sister.
    “Don’t you have church?” he scoffed over his shoulder.
    “Done hours ago. We attend the sunrise service. You ought to come by someday. We’d love to show you the chapel. Up close and personal.”
    They were the proverbial preacher’s daughters, and without a mother figure, they’d torn up their hometown, hitting the local watering holes in Annona when they were barely out of high school, and now, it seemed, had graduated to a larger city and racier establishments. Two times the temptation for some men, but not him. Overindulged chicks didn’t interest him. If and when he wanted female company, he’d seek out an encounter with a full-bodied lover, nothing short of a hot-blooded woman who wanted to take what he had to give.
    “Ladies.” He tipped his hat, scaling the back steps. “Gotta run.”
    “We’re not fibbing, Brandon. We’ll be back. See you later. All of you.”
    Keying in the security code, he didn’t respond nor did he turn when they honked their horn, peeling out of the parking lot. They’d better not plan on seeing him later . With club security stationed at the entrances and side door, only members were admitted, and those two were a no-go when it came to gaining admittance to any club he owned. But there wasn’t much logic in contemplating that point, not with the ton of work waiting for him inside.
    It was four in the afternoon, and hours before club clientele showed up. Hours or not, he still needed to get the place set up and ready to roll. Standing at the back door, he pressed his lips together from the burn scalding the muscles along his back and running down his upper arm. His thoughts returned to Rebellion, the stallion he’d worked with all week on his family’s ranch, Evermore .
    He broke and trained horses when he wasn’t here and Rebellion, a blue roan specially bred for racing, tested his patience. He sported a sore shoulder due to the tumble he’d taken on account of that stubborn horse from hell.
    His phone buzzed with a text message. Under the overhang and out of the new falling snow, he checked his cell and read the message from his partner, Phil Penrose. Special member coming in tonight. I’ll be there to explain.
    He texted Pen: New members—we don’t need.
    They had a membership waitlist from the crowd around Paris and beyond. Requests came from all over Texas, and had started to appear in weekly emails from as far away as London, with several high roller inquiries from Chicago and NYC. From the submissive crowd at least. He refused to accept more business than they could handle. Unlocking the rear door, he paused to shake the snow from his sheepskin coat and stomped his boots before stepping into the rear hall.
    His phone buzzed again. Worth the work. Might get you to reconsider your hiatus.
    Holy shit. He typed, This better not be double trouble. As in twins.
    Pen went mute. The muscles over Brandon’s shoulders knotted with that strange apprehension he got around a horse about to kick. It boiled down to gut instinct. That’s how he trained horses and ran this club. Except at the moment, he lacked time to think about anything besides a