Thank God he wasn't perfect.
It didn't take hanging around him long to realize he was a crazy, womanizing biker who partied, drank, and fucked as hard as the rest of them. I had a pretty good idea what men like him did behind closed doors after the bar, and what happened in outlaw clubhouses was ten times worse.
I didn't care if Rabid melted my panties off. I wouldn't let myself get an inch deeper into his wicked world. And even if he wanted me, scarred cheeks and all, there was no way in hell I'd end up in his bed and become one more notch on the bedpost.
There were bigger problems to deal with than a silly cat-and-mouse crush. There always were.
Welcome to my life.
GET OUTLAW'S OBSESSION!