The brother known as Hound has a reputation. He’s all about cracking heads, having a good time, and when the Chaos Motorcycle Club needs someone to do the tough job, they call on him.
But Hound has a secret. He fell in love with a woman years ago. She’s untouchable. Unattainable. And even when her status changes, for Hound, it remains the same.
Keely Black had it all early and lost it all not long after. Thrown into an abyss of loss and grief, she’s faced a life of raising two sons alone and battling the rage at all that had been ripped from them.
Words spoken in anger open Hound’s and Keely’s eyes. For Hound, he sees he’s wasted his life loving the wrong woman. Keely sees she’s wasting her life not opening herself to the love of a good man.
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WRAPPED UP IN READING’s REVIEW OF WILD LIKE THE WIND
Hound’s phone buzzed with a text.
He pried his eyes open, saw his alarm said it was nearly two in the morning and he grabbed his cell off the nightstand.
He had a text from Keely.
It said, Open your door, cowboy.
He stared at it a second.
Then he lost his mind.
He was out of bed, in his jeans and stalking to the door with his jeans not all the way buttoned before most men could spit.
He’d looked out the peephole and had the door unlocked and pulled open before a woman could say “boo.”
“Hey—” she started, giving him a look.
But she got no more out because he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and yanked her inside.
He slammed the door, locked the three locks then shoved her against the wall beside the door with his hand still on her arm.
“Jesus, Hound, what—?”
He dipped his face right in hers.
“Are you fucking insane?”
“What?” she whispered, staring in his eyes.
“Are you…fucking…insane?” he repeated, slower this time.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because it’s near-on two, this apartment building is on the brink of bein’ a full-blown crack house, it’s in a neighborhood that Hell’s Angels might find a smidge too scary, and your ass is not in your bed in your sweet crib in your house in your nice neighborhood. Instead, it’s at my door.”
Her face screwed up. “Why is it safe for you and not for me?”
“Because I got four guns, seven knives, six inches on you, eighty pounds and a fuckin’ thousand-pound punch.”
“You know the PSI of your punch?” she asked curiously.
“Were you asleep the five thousand times I took your boys to the gym?” he asked back irately.
“No,” she mumbled.
He let her go and straightened away, asking, “What are you doin’ here, Keely?”
“Well, uh…” she started hesitantly, eyeing him up like she wasn’t sure how to go on.
“You’re here to play with my dick,” he bit off.
“How much more mad at me would it make you if I shared that had crossed my mind?” she asked.
“Maybe five, ten hundred thousand times more mad, babe,” he shot back in answer.
“Hmm…” she murmured, still eyeing him.
“I thought we agreed we were done,” he reminded her.
“I was kinda hoping you were feeling flexible about that.”
Hound looked to the ceiling.
Her soft “Hound” in her low, velvet voice came at him the instant her hand lit on his bare chest.
He grabbed her wrist and she made a surprised noise as he twisted it behind her back, jerked her around, and pushed her chest first into the wall.
He put his mouth to her ear.
“Undo your jeans,” he ordered.
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