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I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“We don’t include women in club business for their own protection,” he said finally.
“Hold on, let me see if I can piece together what you’re really saying. You don’t include women in club business for their own protection because that means you’re involved in something that they need to be protected from.”
He sighed. “This is the problem with dating a smart woman.”
“Don’t,” I clipped. “Don’t joke. This is serious. You’ve got to give me something here. Some sort of explanation that I can wrap my head around.”
“Duchess, I’m sitting at your dining room table, letting you school me on napkin placement and which fucking fork I need to use so I don’t embarrass us at this charity event. The least you can do is not bust my balls and ask about what the hell I’m involved in. When I say it’s for your own best interest not to ask questions, you need to trust that.”
Blood roared in my ears. “First of all, I didn’t ask you to go to the charity event. You volunteered. You’re here of your own free will. Second, no woman in their right mind would just accept a blanket statement of we don’t include women in club business for their own protection and call it a day. I’ve got to be out of my mind for ever entertaining this idea. Thank God I’ve come to my senses.” I rose. “I’ll go to the gala alone.”
“You don’t know what the hell you want, Duchess. One minute, you’re begging me to fuck you. The next you’re ready to shove me out the door because you don’t like being reminded that I’m a biker.”
“I didn’t beg you to fuck me.”
“Revisionist history.” He rose from his chair with such force that he knocked it to the floor. “You know what the fuck I think?”
“No, and I don’t care,” I snapped. “You can leave.”
He ignored me when he placed his large hands on the table and leaned forward. “I think you know exactly what you want, but you’re too damn chicken shit to admit it. I think you’re tired of men from your mother’s circle. I think if they really knew how to fuck you, you wouldn’t be slumming it with me. But I make you feel and that scares the ever-loving shit out of you. And I think you don’t have the balls to admit that I’m all wrong for you and that’s exactly what you’re looking for.”
“Oh, so you have me all figured out, do you? Bones, the Hayden Whisperer, huh? Is that your new title?”
“Duchess, you need a good fuck to clear out all the cobwebs. You’re so damn in your head, you don’t even know how to lead with your heart.”
We stared at each other, the words we’d hurled hanging between us. He was breathing hard and his cheeks were flushed.
And then I was suddenly in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. His lips were on mine and his tongue plunged into my mouth.
He carried me to the other end of the table and lay me down on top of it. He bent over and kept kissing me, the anger and fear turning into molten lust.
“I’ve got to touch you,” he murmured against my mouth. “If I don’t touch you, I’m gonna go insane.”
“Yes,” I whispered. “Touch me. Please.”
His hand slid down between us to rest at the apex of my thighs. His eyes were lit with hunger and determination.
Just as his fingers began to play with the button of my jeans, the door to the dining room opened.
“Oh!” squeaked Celeste. “I was coming to see how you liked your dinner. I’ll just…yeah. Leave you to it then.” She immediately departed.
We froze and looked at one another, and then suddenly we both laughed. Bones lifted himself off me and gave me space.
“Guess we both lost our heads,” I said.
“Guess so.” He reached for his glass of wine and brought it toward his mouth.
I nibbled my lips.
He stopped. “What is it?”
“Your knuckles. They’re raw.”
Bones paused. “Yeah.”
“I noticed them earlier, but didn’t want to say anything.”
