Los Perdidos: The Novel (Sons of Glory Motorcycle Club Romance) Read Online Free Page A

gear, and we drove off into the night.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

    Heat. The smell of exhaust. The deep rumble of the engine beneath me. My arms wrap around his warm, leather-clad torso as we speed through the dark night.
    The ground beneath us flies faster and faster, a gray blur illuminated only by the gleaming headlamp of the bike. The vibration of the engine between my legs sends electric jolts of pleasure through me, and I press into the seat as I bury my face in the leather of Smoke’s jacket.
    Then somehow, we are in his bed, our bodies entwined. My senses are filled with him, my body opening to him like a desert flower to the rain. He pushes himself inside me, plunging deep into my core. I cry out, arching my back and wrapping my legs around his torso. He rides me, driving me higher and higher, as we both approach the speed of light…
    A buzz from beside my bed jolted me awake and I sat up, startled and disoriented. My hair was wild, tangled in front of my face, and I was still in the clothes I had been wearing the night before. I glanced over at the nightstand and saw my phone illuminated. As I looked at it in confusion, it buzzed again. I picked it up and saw a list of texts from Dana, and everything came back to me in a rush. Shit, I thought, instantly contrite. I forgot to text her last night when I got home.
    I thumbed through the texts, and could clearly see Dana’s rising worry in their increasingly frantic tone:
    “r u home yet?”
    “where r u?”
    “Jen, come on, im worried”
    “call me now”
    “where the hell r u????!!!”
    Poor Dana. Knowing she must be worried sick, I quickly pressed the number to call her. Dana answered on the second ring, panic evident in her voice. “Jen, Jesus Christ, are you okay?!”
    “I’m fine,” I said immediately. “Don’t worry. I’m so sorry I didn’t text you last night when I got home. It was so late and I was so tired that I just forgot.”
    “Jesus, Jen, I was fucking worried sick about you,” Dana said angrily. “I didn’t know what to do. I almost called campus police, but what were those fuckers gonna do about it?” She blew out a quick breath of air in relief. “Don’t fucking do that again, okay?” she finished, in a tone that told me she would take no argument.
    I grimaced as she spoke: She must really be worked up . Dana swears from time to time, but she only says ‘fuck’ when she’s super, super mad. “Dana, I’m so sorry. Sincerely.” I made my voice as calm and as apologetic as I could to try to placate her. “I promise you, it will never happen again.”
    There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, and I waited patiently, knowing I had said everything I could. Then, in a grudging tone, I heard Dana mutter, “Okay. I forgive you. But please, please, next time, let me know you’re okay. You really freaked me out.”
    It was on the tip of my tongue to say “There won’t be a next time”, but as soon as my mouth opened, I stopped myself. What would I mean exactly if I said it? If I meant that there wouldn’t be a next time with me seeing Smoke, I knew I couldn’t guarantee that. I knew that I hoped more than anything that I would see him again. Still tingling and aroused from my sexy dream, I felt my lower lips puff with need at the thought of the sexy biker with the flashing blue eyes and what he had done to me last night. Ugh. Focus, Jen. I shook my head violently to clear the delicious but distracting thought of him, and focused on my friend. Clearing my throat, I repeated in my most sincere, forthright voice: “I promise, Dana, I will let you know I’m okay next time. If there is a next time.”
    Attempting to change the subject from my shitty friend behavior, I opted to ask her about her evening instead. “So, what did you guys end up doing after you left the bar last night?” Dana started to answer, and as I listened, I suddenly realized that I was alone in my dorm room. “Wait, Dana,” I