FILTHY SINNER (THE FIVE POINTS’ MOB COLLECTION) BY SERENA AKEROYD EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Serena Akeroyd
- Language: English
- Genre: Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 3 MB
- Price: Free
MARY CATHERINE
I WAS sixteen when I first saw the bikers.
Primarily, I noticed their rides outside our house in Westchester, where
Daddy never stayed anymore and I had to hole up with Mother in suburban
hell until he hauled us into the city for our ‘family duties.’ I.e., church with
Father Doyle and his endless sermons.
Bleugh.
It was a surreal sight to behold, though.
Amid the pristine prettiness of ‘Stepford Wife Lane,’ the royal blue bike
was riderless, but the owner had dared to drive over our lawn, leaving tire
tracks behind that showed the earth beneath.
Mother was going to have a literal cow over that.
As for the other bike, it was a stark, bright red with a fire pattern on its
body. The rider had been considerate, however. He was currently parked on
the driveway, his head tilted down as he stared at his cell phone.
With that tousled mop of hair, he should’ve looked dirty, but he didn’t.
Oh, his hair was definitely tangled and in need of a brush, and combined
with the bushy beard, he certainly wasn’t as elegantly attired as I was used
to guys appearing.
Perhaps that was why he caught my eye and why I couldn’t stop staring
as I walked toward my house.
With every step I took, the more I could see of him.
That mop on his head, which should have been a deterrent, doubled his
appeal, and the massive biceps and how he filled out a Henley helped
matters too. Enough that my curiosity at the reason behind the bikers’
presence in my driveway was minimal.
More focused on trying to catch as many glimpses of the stranger’s face
as possible, I didn’t think about things like security or my mother’s safety…
That was when my BFF reminded me that we were on the phone
together.
“Why are you ignoring me when you called me?”
“I’m not ignoring you, Sarah,” I breathed. “There’s the hottest guy in
the world sitting in my driveway.”
“Sitting in your driveway,” she repeated. “What is he? A traveling
salesman?”
My lips twitched as I studied the bike. “I don’t know what he’d be
selling if he were.”
“How hot is he? Jensen-hot or Harry Styles-hot?”
I mock-gagged. “Jensen isn’t hot. I don’t care if he’s the star QB or
not.”
“His ass is beautiful.”
“Asses aren’t beautiful.”
“I swear you’re asexual.”
“Not a crime, is it?” I snapped, even though I’d often thought the same
thing about myself.
Well, until today.
Until this gorgeous specimen crossed my path.
“He’s Charlie Hunnam-hot,” I muttered, not letting her answer me.
She whistled. “Take a picture?”
The tapping of my heels against the sidewalk finally drew the man’s
attention, and when our eyes clashed and held, I was sure I felt that
connection in my soul.
God, had there ever been browner eyes?
They were both hard and soft, piercing yet uber aware.
“I can’t take a picture,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “He can see
me.”
“Are you having an asthma attack?”
I didn’t think so, but it was only because she was marring the moment
with her commentary.
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