Denver: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 3) by Tess Oliver Read Free Book Online

life kind of went to shit after that. By the way, your touch on my skin is making those wine produced tingles even more intense.”
    She reached down and took hold of my wrist and removed my hand from under her shirt. She brought my palm to her mouth and kissed it. Her thumb brushed over the ugly, thick scar running alongside my wrist. She lifted my hand  to get a closer look at the scar. “Holy moly. Shark? Pit bull? Fight with a garbage disposal?”
    “Compound fracture of the wrist. Sometimes defying gravity comes with a few broken bones and trips to the emergency room. That was a particularly gnarly trip. I fell a good twenty feet from the air and somehow, during that drop to earth, I decided my left hand would stop my entire body from slamming the ground. It didn’t. I slammed the ground but not until after my wrist had snapped in two. Took me a second to figure out just what the hell was jutting out of my arm.”
    “Was your doctor blindfolded when he sewed you up?”
    “Wonder that myself sometimes. It’s ugly, I know.”
    She brought my hand to her mouth again and pressed her lips against the scar. I could feel the heat of the kiss all the way through my body. “I rather like it,” she said.
    “Yeah? Then I’m sorry I don’t have more than the wrist scar and one on the inside of my thigh—a fence climbing mishap, not a motorcycle crash. Most guys in my sport have a scar on every limb and shoulder. Rodeo claims that I have less because when I’m about to wreck, I plan out exactly how I’m going to fall so that I can avoid too much damage. My wrist accident obviously did not line up with his theory. But I do tend to get ridiculously logical when I’m flying through the air.”
    She laughed. “That is so cute. Most people close their eyes tight and wait for impact, but you’re heading toward solid ground having a mind debate about which way to fall. Guess you could be called a smart crasher.”
    She sat up, and I sat up next to her. We grabbed the corners of the blanket and brought them up around our shoulders. It wasn’t actually cold out, but it was a great excuse to get closer. Not that we needed it. I had a hard time not touching her when she was near me.
    “When will I get to see you ride your motorcycle through the air? Although, I will be watching like this.” She lifted her hand to her face and spread her fingers out like someone trying to avoid the gore in a horror movie.
    “I’m going to Cole’s house tomorrow to practice if you want to come along.”
    “I do. And I’ll try not to be too big of a sissy.”
    “So, you were telling me about your surreal childhood.”
    “After my dad died, my mom took up with Harold, a man who started as my agent and quickly became my wicked stepfather. I was no longer Jami. I was a commodity to be used and sold and rented. I had little say in my life. Playing the violin was the only bright spot, but even that became an ugly chore when I was told what, when and where to perform. The most ironic part of all was that they controlled every aspect of my professional career, setting boundaries for me at every turn. Yet, they set no parameters on my social life. They were so busy counting their money, they had no interest in actually parenting. I had private tutors for most of my school years, and I was thrown into the adult world long before my eighteenth birthday.”
    She tossed off the blanket and hopped up to her feet. “I just realized that the shoreline isn’t visible from most of the sand.”
    I stood up next to her and stared down toward the water. It wasn’t summer yet and a hazy fog was coasting inland. The first five to ten feet of water was hidden behind a hill of sand. “That’s pretty normal for any beach. The tide erodes the sand and produces that shelf of dry sand. It makes for a natural barrier between dry and wet land.” As I finished my nerdy explanation, I caught a sparkle of light in her eyes that hadn’t been there just a second