The All Encompassing: Shifter MC Novel (Pureblood Predator MC Book 1) by May Ellis Daniels

sound confident but damn near croaking it out. My mouth is suddenly dry. What the hell, Lil? I scold myself. And to get back some of my mojo I say, “Seriously though? Just Aaron? No moniker? No AKA?”
    He gives me a look that’s not entirely friendly. “Your break.”
    “Because I’m a woman?”
    “Exactly.”
    I chalk up my cue. “I saw you on your bike. Outside.”
    “You did?”
    He’s actually not that good of a liar, given his profession.
    “I did. That must be kind of neat. Riding around on a bike all. Make you feel like a kid again. A…juvenile.”
    He ignores me, turns and waves at the bartender. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or not, then I wonder what exactly a good sign would be?
    Depends on what I want from him, I guess.
    But as I lean over the pool table to break I know exactly what I want from him, and when I brush my hair back and glance up to catch him staring at my exposed neck, the soft skin tracing down to my tits I have a pretty good idea what he wants as well. It’s the first time I’ve seen him with his guard down, and the flush radiating through my midsection makes me tremble.
    I flub the break. It’s weak-assed. The pool balls remain in a tight cluster in the middle of the table.
    “You look pretty straight for this neighborhood,” Aaron says, studying the table with a frown of concentration.  
    “As opposed to what? Crooked?”
    “You look like you’re so clean you squeak.”
    “I heard most Harley’s nowadays are purchased by retired dentists. Is that true? Bunch of well-off old white guys cruising around, playing at being outlaws?”
    Aaron stops. Lifts his gaze to meet mine. Gives me a long, piercing look. I’m all swagger and bluff, whereas he’s…not. In fact he’s nothing at all like I expected. Oh, he’s no poser. No wannabe. And that’s what makes him so compelling. He’s perfectly composed. In control. And then that feeling hits me again, the memory of glimpsing that mountain lion, of what it means to be a predator stalking your prey through the evening woods—
    “Do I look like a fucking dentist?” Aaron says, tapping his outlaw cut.  
    “No,” I say, almost whispering. It’s maybe the first genuine, non-snarky thing I’ve said to the man.  
    “Tell you what, Lily,” he says, and I like how he makes my name sound. Like flowers in spring. “Lets raise the stakes.” He lays a hundred dollar bill at the edge of the table while the waitress deposits a neat scotch in my hand.  
    “You waited to see me break before putting money on your game? Chickenshit.”
    That gets him. A tiny flush of red, just around the cheeks.  
    “Well?”
    “Sure,” I say, nodding to Trish. “Money’s in my purse.”
    “Uh-huh,” he says with the cynicism of a man accustomed to trusting no one.
    “So it’s a deal? Hundred bucks for the win?”
    “Deal,” Aaron says, leaning for the shot. It’s a straightforward high angle into the side pocket. His arms stretch out over the table, long, tightly muscled. His tats are all old-school, skull and cross-bone type designs, demon-monsters descending from storm clouds. Nothing Celtic. Nothing tribal. Nothing trendy.  
    The hot biker boss misses his shot by a mile.
    “A hundred bucks is almost worth an hour in this dive,” I say, eyeing up my shot. I sink it easily with a bit of backspin that lands the cue ball in line for my next shot. It goes down, then another, and the world narrows around me, the music fading, the god-awful week I’ve had fading. My nerves, frayed raw as hell, start to relax. My breathing slows.  
    I eye down another shot. Get a little aggressive and miss.
    I look up to find Aaron staring at me. He looks…hungry. His eyes sparkle like an Alaskan river, and his lips are parted slightly. Moist. I think about kissing him, feeling his warm, searching lips against mine.  
    I wonder how he’d touch me.  
    Hard, hopefully. Demanding.  
    Aaron of no AKA seems to have forgotten it’s his shot.