Todos os capítulos de Hard Curves (Dangerous Curves 2): Capítulo 1 - Capítulo 10

Naomi Abbott peeled out of the Dangerous Curves parking lot like she had the devil himself chasing her… and in a way she did. Two devils, actually. One old and familiar – the one that had tried to ruin her life in ways that she was just starting to get a handle on – and one new. One that was, in some ways, far more frightening than the first. A dark-haired devil with killer gray eyes and massive hands. A devil with a stare that could smash through every single wall she’d built up to protect herself. A devil that she hadn't seen coming, and had no idea how to mount a defense against now. A devil who was pure, wicked, muscular, mouthwatering temptation. Matt Kingston. Goddammit.She saw a gas station and pulled over. Hands trembling, Naomi reached into her purse and pulled out the brass coin. The size of a poker chip, painted a shining copper, it represented the most astounding act of self-love that she’d ever performed.Seven months, three weeks, four days without a drink. And Christ

“I’m not sure,” Mirrie said slowly. “Lots of rumors, and I’m not in that life anymore, so I can’t say how much of what I hear is true.”“What do you hear?”“Well, he owns that garage out on 12th Ave… King’s Garage.”“I know it. A biker garage, right?”“Not only, but yeah,” Mirrie said. “The local MC’s get their bikes fixed there, but I think that’s ‘cause King’s guys really are the best at what they do.”Mirrie left much unsaid in that statement, but Naomi heard it all, loud and clear. Mirrie had been raised pretty rough: MC-member and alcoholic father, prostitute and druggie mother, MC-member brother Donovan, who was the worst of all of them. Donovan 'Joker' Kane was a hardcore criminal who had languished in jail many times for rape, assault, robbery, and had been suspected of murder more than once, though the cops hadn’t been able to make anything stick. He’d terrorized Mirrie her entire life and when she’d gotten sober, she’d walked away from a whole bunch of people who didn’t sup

“Naomi. Hi.” He stood up and came around the desk to meet her. “How are you?”“Fine, Mr. Kingston.”He paused. Mr. Kingston? “Please call me King, Naomi.” God, I want her to scream that while I take her, hard and deep. “Maybe you want some coffee?”“No, thank you, Mr. Kingston.” He really looked at her now, tried to read her body language. Tense, closed, brittle. Her one hand was in her pocket, and he just knew it was clenched hard in there.Is she scared of me?The thought shook him, and he rushed to set her at ease. “Sit down, honey.”She stiffened. “Please don’t call me that.”He blinked. “Please don’t – what?”“Please don’t call me ‘honey’. Or ‘baby’ or ‘sweetheart’ or anything else in that vein.”“I – I’m sorry.” King was totally wrong-footed. No woman had ever flatly protested him calling them some meaningless term of endearment. He also never apologized for anything. “I do it with everybody.”Sadly, she wasn’t having any of it. “Everybody with breasts, you mean.”“Uh, yeah. I

He shrugged and opened his hands. “And that was it… you started your organization. The workshops are fun and free, and are safe places for autistic adults to go during the day so that their families can get to work or school or whatever. But you also have a real eye for spotting talent, and when someone shows promise, you cultivate it. You teach, train, encourage, and you sell their work and give them fifty percent. Your half is funneled back into the organization to pay for the rent, materials, staff wages, and your own pretty modest salary. You’re fair, and honest, and well-respected.”She swallowed hard.“So, I get it, OK?” His husky voice was as soft as it ever got. “I get what you’re doing and what you’re protecting. I care about it too, and I really admire your dedication to it. You’re looking out for your artists’ livelihoods, and your program’s reputation, and I’m not going to jeopardize either one of those things, I promise you. If you feel that strongly that I can’t sponsor

If he was being totally honest with himself, he had to admit that she’d actually impressed the hell out of him that morning. Showing up at the garage – an intimidating place, to put it mildly – and then putting him in his place for calling her a pet name, not letting him talk to her like she was just some chick. She hadn’t backed down when he’d gotten angry, she hadn’t backed off when he’d turned the tables on her a bit. She was protective of her organization, she fought for her artists. Naomi had integrity, and guts, and a hot ass, and as King sat in the parking lot, he decided that he liked all of that just fine.He’d stayed put for as long as he could physically stand it, then he’d sprinted into the Heart Center ten minutes early and all jacked-up on adrenalin – only to be disappointed to hear that Naomi was leading a workshop. Deflated, he’d accepted a cup of coffee, and then brooded and watched the clock some more. When Jax and Sarah walked in, he almost crumpled with relief at