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“Hey,” Zaxx called after him. “Another basket of fries, too.” He’d followed her to the bar, but he didn’t come to her side. Instead, she felt him at her back.
Drawing a pint, Chet nodded. “Fries, yep. Your tab or Gia’s?”
“Mine.” Zaxx bent to set his head beside Gia’s. “Will fries do, or do you want something else?”
Gia turned slightly toward him. “The fries are for me?”
“Well, I figured we’d share. But if you want something else ...”
Chet set two full glasses before them and turned to send their order to the kitchen. Gia didn’t bother to answer Zaxx’s implied question. She hadn’t eaten dinner, but she wasn’t especially hungry, anyway. Sharing fries would be plenty.
As she reached for her beer, his right hand came around and caught her arm. Inked in the space between the first and second knuckle of each finger was a letter in 8-bit font: G-A-M-E. She knew the knuckles on his left hand spelled O-V-E-R.
“I’ve always wondered,” he said at her ear, “what’s this say?”
He meant her own ink, the tattoo around her right wrist—a sentence in script, formed like a bracelet. “It’s an Italian saying my mom uses a lot. Ogni lasciata è persa. It means ‘Everything left is lost.’”
She looked over her shoulder at him. His attention was still on her wrist, which was still in his hand. A ghost of a frown sat on his brow.
“‘Everything left is lost,’” he repeated thoughtfully. “That sounds kinda like carpe diem, or YOLO.”
She was impressed. Most people she’d told had required an explanation to even get close. “That’s pretty much it, yeah. And also, you know, don’t look back. Make your choices and push ahead. Whatever you don’t choose is gone, so don’t obsess about it.”
“I like that.”
“Me too.”
He released her arm but didn’t move otherwise. It felt pretty nice having him right behind her, close enough that they brushed together with each move, close enough to feel the heat of his body even through her jacket, but Gia wanted to see him, so she turned in place, her body pressing to his as she did. He was only a few inches taller, but he was so close she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes.
She liked his size, tall and broad enough to form a shield between her and the rest of the bar. That wasn’t so common for Gia; she’d dated mostly men her height or a little shorter. She didn’t have a hang-up about being the taller one in a couple, but plenty of men did. And to be fair, she’d be lying if she pretended there was no allure in being the smaller one. Like maybe she could set down her shield for a minute and rest.
Zaxx was big enough to make her feel ... not safe, she didn’t need a man to make her feel safe, but ... restful.
Also, damn, he smelled good. That sandalwood thing he had going on really worked—and she liked that hint of old smoke. Many would probably say that smell was bad, but it was so familiar to Gia, so full of memories, it was like home.
“What’s happening right now?” she asked, studying his ocean-deep eyes.
The closed smile that emerged within the frame of his beard was slanted and wry. “I don’t know yet. Do you?”
Gia thought about that while she studied him. Tall and broad, smelled great, wonderful smile, poetic eyes, long, lush, dark hair. Even better, he wasn’t treating her like an adored child or a sacred artifact, the two ways the Horde treated her. One way or another, to the Night Horde MC, she was not to be touched. She was Isaac Lunden’s only daughter, after all.
But here Zaxx Bello was, in his Horde kutte, touching her. He was objectively hot, and he was treating her like he thought the same about her and wasn’t afraid to show it.
This close to him, feeling all the good, warm flutters down low, Gia saw that her homecoming could improve dramatically. She didn’t know him well, but she wanted to know him better. In the carnal sense if in no other. As far as she was concerned, that was what was happening right now.
So she tipped her chin up and hooked a hand over the back of his neck, pressing down, encouraging him to bend to her.
He set his glass on the bar, gripped its rolled edge in both hands, framing her between his arms, and took her offered mouth.
From the first touch of his lips to hers, Gia knew he was good at this. He didn’t maul her lips or go spelunking at the back of her mouth. He didn’t even use his tongue at first. Only his lips on hers, soft and firm. Then his mouth opened a bit more, enclosing hers, and his tongue came out for a tiny taste.
A heady wash of sensations swept through her head and body, drowning her awareness of anything else around her—no more music, no more crowd, no more noise, nor more anything but this man and his mouth. It had been only a few weeks since she’d had sex, but it had been ages since she’d felt all this. This was more than simple arousal; it was sincere attraction, a pull that demanded more. A moan slipped free before she knew it was coming and could stop it.
He closed his mouth and pulled back a little, smiling down at her. “Is that what you wanted?”
Gia inhaled slowly and settled a heart that had taken on a jazzy beat. “I think it is.”
He did another of his curious, and curiously appealing, head tilts. “What’s that mean, Gia?”
