Oh, she wants to play it that way. All right. I’m down.

  “It’s not romance. It’s the Black Dagger Brotherhood. Not the same thing.”

  “Romance.” Her nose turns up, all highfalutin’ and shit. It’s cute. Funny, too. She’s lovin’ this banter as much as I am. Nobody else knows about my reading habit. I keep it on the DL for good reason. The brothers would have a field day with the material I enjoy.

  “Fuck. Fine.” I sigh loudly, for show. “It’s romance. But it’s a badass romance. Not sappy shit.”

  Satisfied with my forfeit, Kit winks. The blush that creeps up her cheeks is sexy. Especially when she’s wearin’ my shirt, and God knows what else underneath those covers.

  “Where’d you find it?” She gestures to the book.

  I run a hand over my bald head and yawn. “Katrina, an old lady from the Texas chapter, mailed everyone books for Christmas last year. She used to be a librarian. I got that book, Dark Lover. When I asked her old man if it was a joke, he said to read the damn thing. I did…” At night, when I wasn’t busy fucking Niki or another random club whore. It’s always nice to wind down with a good book.

  “And now you read vampire romance.”

  Here we go again.

  “It’s not like that.”

  By the tilt of her head, Kit’s not convinced. “It was hidden in the bottom corner of your closet with ten other books from the same series.” For emphasis, she holds up both palms, her fingers splayed apart to highlight ten.

  Yeah. There’s that. They were there, under a folded sheet. If she hadn’t been looking through my stuff, she would’ve never discovered them.

  “That you found by snooping.”

  Those hazel beauties widen in indignation. “I wasn’t snooping. I was smelling your shirts. I was bored.”

  Well…okay. Shit... Not what I was expecting. This woman sure knows how to throw a mean curveball.

  “Smelling my shirts.” Christ. I love the sound of that, as do other parts of my anatomy.

  “Yes.” Her head swivels in defiance, and a shot of high-octane lust roars through my veins. “Is that not okay? Are you opposed to women smelling your shirts?”

  “You like the way they smell?” My voice is husky, even to my ears. I’m gettin’ hard despite my need for shut-eye.

  Kit, mother of my son—in my space, wearing my clothes, smelling my shirts, reading my books, and lookin’ mighty fine doing it. Damn, this is a fantasy I never knew I wanted—with a woman I shouldn’t be attracted to, much less envisioning spread out naked on my bed, reciting Dark Lover with that smokin’ hot voice of hers.

  It’s a good thing she can’t read my thoughts when she sasses back. “That’s a stupid question for someone as smart as you, Gunz.”

  Touché.

  To be closer to the fox, I push off the doorframe and approach the bed. I tear my t-shirt over my head and drop it on the floor at my feet. Her eyes round to the size of hubcaps, and I’m over the moon, watchin’ her ogle my chest, abs, and the array of ink with wonder. Since before Christmas, the brothers and I have been workin’ hard to stay in shape and eat right, except for alcohol. We’re never givin’ that up. Not that I was a schlub before, but the renewed effort shows. Even for us old fucks.

  “Why don’t you scoot your sexy ass over so I can join ya?” ’Cause I know she likes the view, I run a palm down my stomach and over the trail of gray that runs from my chest to the treasures beneath my Sacred Sinners belt buckle. With a quick flip and pull from the loops, it, too, hits the floor with a heavy thud.

  “J-join me? What for?” Kit swallows hard, and I delight in makin’ her uneasy. The good kind that has her chest rising and falling with laden breaths. The kind that’s makin’ her panties wet. She may not admit it out loud, but she’s a little turned on. Nervous, too. What a heady combination.

  “So you can read to me.” Playing it chill, to not spook the woman, I remove my club ring and rest it on the nightstand before gesturing to the book.

  “W-w-why would I do that?” Her voice quivers as I pull back the covers and climb in, close enough to feel her warmth. My head meets the pillow, and I prop an arm behind it, elbow out. It brushes Kit’s side. She sucks in an audible breath but doesn’t pull away.

  Mmm. The closer, the better.

  Naked from the waist up, my eyes slip closed of their own volition as I melt into the mattress, letting days of endless stress fade into oblivion. Stuff will sort itself out later.

  “’Cause I’m exhausted as fuck,” I explain. “I didn’t get any sleep last night, and I wanna lie beside you and have you read to me.” Can’t be any more candid than that. Can I? From my experience, sugarcoating and half-truths don’t get you far. No use in pretending I don’t want her here when we both know I do.

  “But there’s sex. I can’t read the sex aloud.”

  I rub her side with my elbow in encouragement. “You already know my secret. I’ll keep yours if you blush reading about Wrath and Beth gettin’ it on.”

  “I won’t blush.”

  I peek at Kit through one eye and smirk at what I find. “You already are.”

  Hiding a smile behind her hand, Kit pokes me hard on the shoulder with the other. “Shut up.” Amusement dances in her tone and across what little of her face that’s exposed as she watches me.

  “Read, woman.” I snap my fingers for her to get on with it. Then I return to my dream-readiness state—eyes closed, body relaxed, and dick hard. The latter will go away soon enough. He’s just pissed he hasn’t gotten off in a while. Not yesterday, not today, and probably not before I leave, if Kit’s around. It’s not like I’m gonna pull an asshole move and bang Niki when she’s here, and I don’t masturbate if I can help it. My cock can wait for the real thing. Sure, he’s not the most patient. Guess it’s a good thing his owner is. Quality is always better than quantity.

  “Anyone ever told you you’re bossy?” she fires back.

  “Never.” Another yawn slips free. “Now, put me to sleep with that sexy voice of yours.”

  “Fine.” Kit harrumphs, playing into this banter. “As you wish. But I want it known I’m doing it under duress.”

  “I’m alright with that.”

  “Knew you would be.”

  I snicker. “Glad you’re here, Kit.” A sense of lightness fills my chest as the hottie ignores my statement and begins to read from where she left off. Kit’s voice is smooth, like water running over rocks in a tranquil river. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off beside the woman I wanna get to know better, even if it’s for the sake of my son. Having her here feels right. Dunno why that is. Not gonna fight the urge to be around her, either.

  Wrath removes his wraparounds to show his old lady his eyes, and sleep drags me into its darkened abyss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KIT

  Popping another grape into my mouth from the Ziplock baggy I’m holding, I stick with Gunz as he gives me the nickel tour of the SS compound. Why he chose to do this, I couldn’t say.

  Back at his place, I’d fallen asleep beside him not long after he did. The man doesn’t breathe loudly let alone snore. It’s a little creepy, to be honest. No movement. No noise. Only a hand that twitched every so often after it migrated to my leg and stayed. When I woke up, he was gone—as in out of bed, but in the same house—playing with Dom while Janie showered. When she was through, he got the bag of spare clothes from my truck. While I love wearing Gunz’s jammies, I’m happy to be back in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, a plain purple t-shirt, and my flip-flops he tracked down.

  It was bittersweet watching him with Dom, knowing he missed out on those important milestones of Adam’s life. You could sense the connection he has with the little one. The joy they experience in each other's presence is undeniable. You can tell a good man from a bad one by the love he shows those he cares for and more importantly, to strangers he doesn’t—like me.

  This. What we’re doing now is a ten on the good-guy scale. Every minute with Gunz is like looking through a window into a different life with a man, unlike anyone I’ve met before. He’s genuine and smart. An odd combination if you’ve been single as long as I have. Not saying I haven’t attempted to date. I have. It’s horrible. Sure, when you’re in your twenties, it’s easy, and every man wants to bone you. When you hit your forties, men your age want younger, sexier women like Niki. Those even older than you also want younger, sexier women like Niki. There’s a reason Gunz and her are together, whether it be in the traditional sense or not. That’s what men want. What he wants. She is gorgeous.

  I offer Gunz a grape. He pops it into his mouth and delivers a panty-melting smile that could light up Broadway. It’s hard to look and not experience the effects. Everything about him affects me when it shouldn’t. I’ve had at least a dozen mental orgasms since he returned to the house after his meeting. Between wanting me to read, to the flirting, and taking his shirt off.

  Holy hell…

  Mind blown.

  Ovaries gone.

  “This is the infirmary.” Gunz opens the door and flicks on a light, but we remain in the hall, on the edge of the threshold.

  The room’s what you’d expect a sterile space to be. Nothing special—if you can ignore the fact it’s inside the clubhouse of a motorcycle club and not a hospital operating room. From the looks of things, it has high-tech equipment and a shelf full of medical supplies.

  Unsure what my reaction should be, I bob my head and look ridiculous doing it. “This is nice.” I toss another grape into my mouth to give my body something to do besides stand here, looking into a room not all that exciting.

  Shoulder resting against the wall beside the door, Gunz unwraps a sucker and studies me. I do my best to keep my attention on my food, the room, and my feet, to avoid eye contact. “You’ve said that about every room I’ve shown you.”

  I shrug. “They are nice.”

  The clubhouse kitchen is where he plied me with fruit after trying to feed me more. I’m not comfortable mooching off people, even if it’s just a sandwich. The room itself was industrial in size, clean, and well-stocked. The main room has a new set of front doors and was cleaned of debris at some point today. The pool table, table and chairs, couch, bar, and jukebox all remain the same, as do the signs on the walls and the overall biker den feel.

  “You’re bored.” Gunz twirls the sucker stick between his lips before it settles in the corner of his mouth, rounding out his cheek. He rolls the waxy wrapper between his fingers, turning it into a ball.

  “I’m not bored.” Not really. He’s here and watching him is far from boring. If anything, it gives my dull life something to focus on. When you eat dinner standing in your kitchen, over the sink, you realize your normal has reached an all-time low. Spending time with Gunz in any capacity trumps anything I could be doing in the studio apartment I rent, after losing the house and cars when Jeremy disappeared. One salary could only weather so much. With Adam gone and no desire for stuff to clutter my life, it was economically sound for me to downsize. I’m happy in my shoebox.

  “This is uninteresting.” He gestures to the infirmary before turning out the light and shutting the door.

  Maybe a little, though I’m not about to tell him that.

  “It’s fine. You wanted to give me a tour.”

  “Guess there’s not much to see, huh?” He smirks, his eyes crinkling at the edges. It’s a good look on him, as I imagine everything is. If you bet me a month ago, I’d meet a man who, after fifty years on this earth, could put thirty-year-old fitness models to shame, I’d have taken that bet and lost… happily.

  In the middle of a vacant hallway, I nibble the edge of another grape. Sweetness bursts between my lips, wetting my tongue before I pop it into my mouth to finish. “It’s a building with rooms,” I note between chews, for no real importance other than Gunz seeing my thoughts laid bare. The more honest I am, the better it is for our budding friendship. With the fiasco of Jeremy in my rearview, I refuse to put Adam through another heartbreak like that. If I can keep this world steady for the both of us, I will.

  He contemplates my words for a beat before replying. “Most women are dyin’ to see every part of the clubhouse.”

  I nod, saying nothing because I’m sure they are. Most women here are looking to land a biker, or already have one. That’s not my intention, no matter how attractive the motorcycle man in front of me is.

  “Do you like dogs?” he asks out of nowhere and pushes off the wall, stowing the trash ball in a front pocket.

  I chew thoughtfully. “Is that a trick question?”

  “No. Why? Do you not like ‘em, or are you more of a cat person?”

  Felines and I do not mix. We had a tabby growing up, I’m positive was Satan’s right hand. Since then, I’ve sworn the furballs off.

  “Does it matter?” I return, hoping he’s not secretly obsessed with cats like he is suckers. There are bowls of them everywhere, and I do mean everywhere.

  Raising both eyebrows, he strokes his goatee. “Maybe?” The hint of a devilish grin hooks at the corner of his mouth and is gone a breath later.

  “Gunz…” I groan, waiting for him to tell me why he’s curious.

  “Deb raises and trains dogs here.”

  “To fight them?” I guess, considering the source of where we are. It isn’t too far out of character for an outlaw motorcycle club to run a dog-fighting ring, is it?

  Scratching the side of his head, Gunz looks moderately offended by my assumption. “God. No. To sell ‘em to people who need dogs for protection. Not for fighting.”

  Whoops.

  Gunz

  I’m fuckin’ this up. Can’t say this has ever happened before. Kit wakes up, sits with me and Dom in the living room, keepin’ to herself, and I struggled with ideas for us to do while she’s here. We can’t go on a ride—it isn’t safe. Can’t fuck—too messy. I don’t trust the brothers around her, and I definitely don’t trust the Sacred Sisters. Bink’s been blowin’ up my phone with questions about my lady friend since Big told her who Kit was. I’ve not responded. As much as I love Bink, this part of my life is mine. I’m not gonna defend it to anybody. I expect them to respect Kit, not because they wanna, but because I demand it. My choice, my business. If I thought she could play nice, I’d give Bink the opportunity to meet Kit again after Big exposed her identity. I know better. She’s overprotective. Anything she’ll say will only cause problems I don’t need right now.

  I’m also a selfish bastard.

  Sharing Kit’s time means less one-on-one. Less learning about Adam and her. And I’m likin’ that a whole helluva lot.

  To quit boring her to death, I escort Kit out the back door of the clubhouse. I even do the gentlemanly thing and hold it open, to get a spectacular view of her butt in those tight jeans as she steps into the grass. I’m an ass man. Sue me.

  We say little as we cross the road that runs through the middle of the compound to visit Deb’s kennels. The dogs are running in their outside pens as we approach. They bark in welcome, then sit without being told as Kit reaches in to scratch a blue nose -pitbull on the head. His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth in excitement, yet he doesn’t move an inch as he enjoys Kit’s ministrations. She coos on and on about how great of a boy he is, and I swear an unfamiliar piece inside my chest starts to unravel. I’m also half jealous of how sweetly she talks to him.

  In comfortable silence, we hit all ten kennels with the same result. The one on the end holds Debbie’s newest recruit—a short, brawny French bulldog with blue eyes. I heard Dallas talkin’ to his old lady about the breed—how she’s trying ‘em on for size, for people who want companionship with watchdog capabilities. More bark than bite. He sure is a cute fella with pointy ears and a flat nose.

  He snorts in pleasure as Kit kneels outside his pen to love on him.

  “You’re the cutest little guy, aren’t you? So sweet. I just wanna take you home and give you lots of cuddles.”

  I want her to take me home and give me lots of cuddles.

  Shit.

  I shake my head to clear such thoughts. Not the place, and definitely not the fuckin’ time.

  In response, the Frenchie’s ass waddles, and I smile at the scene. Might even snap a couple pictures when she’s too preoccupied to notice. They’ll come in handy on a lonely night.

  One of Deb’s boys, who helps run the business with their mom, exits the side door of the building and waves. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I lift my chin in greeting as the lanky kid joins us.

  “He’s so cute,” Kit croons, lookin’ between me, the teen, and the pup, unsure where to set her sight.

  Deb’s youngest pulls a treat from his pocket and drops it into the pen. Vibrating with pure excitement, the Frenchie swallows it whole. “He’s Mom’s new favorite.”

  “What’s his name?” Kit asks, scratching behind the pup’s speckled bat ears.

  Kneeling too close to my lady for my liking… I mean, Kit… the kid reaches in beside her to pet the pooch. “Unofficially, we’ve been callin’ him Chibs,” he explains as I watch to make sure his fingers stay on his own side of the pup, not getting anywhere close to hers. When they damn near touch shoulders, thanks to Chibs rolling onto his back for belly rubs, my teeth clench down on the sucker stick, my abs drawing tight as I resist the urge to snatch the kid up by the scruff of his neck and force him to leave. If I thought Kit wouldn’t get pissed, I’d do it.

  I scuff my toe in the dirt to get this… whatever is goin’ on in my head, under control.

  “Like the Scotsman from SOA?” Kit inquires, oblivious to the kid’s proximity. He’s a red-blooded male, and she’s hot. She smells good too—peaches and cream. Don’t act like he don’t know what he’s doin’. He’s a teenager. They know. They always know.

  “Same one,” he agrees on a nod, and I come up empty, knowin’ nothing of which they speak.

  Kit twists around to look up at me from her spot on the concrete pad, all smiles and beauty. Fuckin’ A. I damn near have to catch my breath. “Wasn’t he the club’s sergeant-at-arms, just like you?”