Gearhead (Book 2): Hellions MC, #2

By Evelyn Glass

This is book 2 of the Hellions MC romance series! Book 3 is available everywhere now!

I had everything a man could want. But I'd rather have her.

From the second she stepped into my office, Marin was the answer to my problems.

And I was the only shot she had at survival.

Technically, what I did to her was blackmail.

But when her clothes were stripped off and she was bent bare over my desk, I didn't hear her complaining.

All I heard was her moaning.

In return for me letting her live, she gave me what I needed most:

A fake fiancé.

Out in public, we're the spitting image of a couple in love.

And in the bedroom, she follows every single one of my commands.

Once this is over, I'll cut her loose. Never to be seen again.

Wipe my hands clean of this whole sloppy, filthy mess.

But there's one big flaw in my plan. One thing I never expected…

Actually falling for her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Dec 14, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393922032

Book preview

Gearhead: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Hellions MC Book 2)

By Evelyn Glass

I had everything a man could want. But I'd rather have her.

FROM THE SECOND SHE stepped into my office, Marin was the answer to my problems.

And I was the only shot she had at survival.

Technically, what I did to her was blackmail.

But when her clothes were stripped off and she was bent bare over my desk, I didn’t hear her complaining.

All I heard was her moaning.

In return for me letting her live, she gave me what I needed most:

A fake fiancé.

Out in public, we’re the spitting image of a couple in love.

And in the bedroom, she follows every single one of my commands.

Once this is over, I’ll cut her loose. Never to be seen again.

Wipe my hands clean of this whole sloppy, filthy mess.

But there’s one big flaw in my plan. One thing I never expected...

Actually falling for her.

Chapter 1

Marin

Istood in the dimness along the edge of the room, finger-picking at the see-through material of my dress. As much as I wanted to hate it, I couldn’t. The dress was by far the most extravagant thing I’d ever owned, and despite the circumstances of the evening, I felt amazing. I’d seen more than a few wives direct their husband’s wandering eyes away from me. I’d also seen Jasper making his own eyes in my direction. I did my best not to take it personally.

Jasper belonged to a class of people who found pleasure in possessing something other people wanted. That extended to his ridiculously expensive car, and now, to me. I was nothing more than an object to him, and I would do well to remember that. Even worse, I was a tool. He only wanted me because I would soften his image. If only I could tell someone about our arrangement so we could have a good laugh about the irony of Jasper blackmailing me into helping him with his public image.

The gala was being held in the lobby of the fine arts museum. Endless white walls reached towards the skylight in the ceiling, priceless works of art dotted the space, going unnoticed by the party’s guests. A long neon-lit bar had been set up in front of a Manet, and I couldn’t help but think the entire event was a little sacrilegious. Especially since half of the guests were grinding up against one another on a light up, checkered dance floor.

A hand on my exposed lower back made me jump. I brought you a drink, Jasper said, handing me a champagne flute.

How do I know you didn’t drug it? I asked, grabbing the glass from him and tipping it back.

At the rate you’re tipping back drinks, I won’t need to drug you.

I’d had a few drinks, but I was nowhere close to drunk. Having a drink in my hand made me feel less nervous. Jasper had introduced me to a few people as his girlfriend as soon as we’d arrived, and suddenly I was being quizzed on how we’d met and what our song was. It was too much. I’d decided the night would be much easier to handle if I saw it all through a thin haze of alcohol. So far, I was right.

I’m fine, I said, taking a few steps in a straight line to prove it.

Suddenly, the glass was out of my hand and sitting on the table, and Jasper had his arm looped around me, pulling me towards the center of the room.

Hey, I said, protesting slightly.

Oh, I’m sorry, he said, still looking straight ahead at the dance floor ahead of us. I thought you were walking towards the dance floor.

Well, I wasn’t. You can let me go stand in the corner again, I said, half-turning back to my hiding spot along the wall.

Being a wallflower was really what I’d always been best at. I’d gone to winter formal my junior year of high school and been scarred ever since. My date ditched me for one of my best friends, and I spent the entire evening watching them rub their genitals together under the disco ball, trying not to cry.

My girlfriend would want to dance with me, he said, a gentle reminder of the role I was supposed to be playing.

I sighed. Fine, but if you reel me in on your imaginary fishing line, I’m leaving.

We were standing in the middle of the room, and I felt countless pairs of eyes on us. The music had switched to a slow country song, and Jasper slid his arm behind my back and pulled me up against him. He smelled like firewood and cinnamon, and I resisted the