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"And clubwhores," I added, the word sounding weird on my tongue.
"Gets old."
"String-free sex with random and willing partners whenever you want gets old?" I asked, brows drawing together. If I wasn't mistaken, that was most guys' dream.
"Yeah, babe, it gets old."
"So, what? You're like the one-percent of bikers who wants a committed relationship?" I teased.
"You've met Reign and Wolf and Cash and Repo. They're in committed relationships."
He had a point.
I hadn't gotten to see Reign, Repo, or Wolf with their women, but I had seen Cash with Lo and, even though it was clear they had been together for a long while, they still seemed pretty crazy about each other.
"Are all their women like Lo?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know. Lo is..."
"A badass?" he filled in for me.
"Yeah, that about covers it."
"Lo runs Hailstorm so, yeah, she's pretty badass. Wolf's woman, Janie, works at Hailstorm and is like a more spitfire version of Lo. Maze, Repo's girl, she actually was a probate alongside me and Renny back in the day and is arguably more badass than half the guys here."
"So the answer is yeah," I said, feeling oddly sad about that.
"Not necessarily. Summer, Reign's woman, was pretty normal."
"Then how did she find herself hooked up with a biker?"
"Dunno, babe. You found yourself hooked up with bikers too," he said and, as if reading into it the way I was reading into it, rushed to cover. "Summer had been held captive and tortured for months, being used as a bargaining chip to get her father to do something he didn't want to do. She got out one night and Reign found her. That's their story."
"Not really that similar when it comes down to it."
"No, but the point was, she was just a normal chick living her normal life, going to work, coming home, seeing friends. She wasn't learning to make bombs like Janie or commanding a lawless military like Lo or learning to kick ass like Maze."
"What do they all do now? Like now that they're with your friends?"
"They're all pretty much doing the same thing. Lo and Janie are still up at Hailstorm and running the self-defense gym. Maze works doing accounting like she did before she got all baddass. She also fills in at the gym too, given she's got more than enough self-defense skills. But they're really not as crazy as you think. They're all wives and mothers now. Things are calmer. Well," he said, shrugging, "they were calmer."
"You're worried."
"Got a lot to worry about," he agreed. "Lot of people here I give a shit about. Including you."
"You don't even know me," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Know enough to know you take care of your loved ones and you knit blankets for the homeless and you can cook some mean Mexican and you fumble over your words when you're nervous." He paused and I thought he was done. Then he added the strangest thing. "You're clean."
"I'm... clean?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"Seen a lot of blood and filth in my life to recognize clean when I see it."
"Clean?" I repeated, not quite understanding. What, just because I wasn't some badass criminal, I was something pure and white and shiny?
"Worst thing I could do to put my filthy hands on you."
"You're afraid you might rub off on me?" I asked, unable to stop myself from smiling. "Duke, in case you haven't noticed, I don't exactly have the disposition to set bombs or command men or even just throw guys around on a mat in self-defense class."
"You handled that knife pretty effortlessly. Tell me," he said, leaning in a bit, eyes intense, "what are the chances you could have done that before you got pulled into our mess here?"
Okay.
Well, on that, he wasn't wrong.
"Do you somehow think I'm any worse of a person because I used that knife?" I asked, wanting to understand.
"No, babe. You do what you have to do."
"So then, what's the problem?" I blurted out, I think surprising myself more than him.
"The problem?"
"Yeah."
"The problem with... putting my hands on you?" he asked bluntly making me have to swallow hard to get out my answer.
"Yeah, that one."
"Penny, you want my hands on you, I don't think I will be able to stop myself from giving that to you."
I closed my eyes for a second, my brain shooting off in a million different directions at once. Half of those directions were coming up with reasons why it was a bad idea. The other half were trying to convince me to let it happen. Then, somewhere along the way, most of the ones looking for the reasons why it was a bad idea got sidetracked and jumped on the other trail.
So when I opened my eyes, my lips parted and said something I was pretty sure I had never said before. "I want your hands on me."
