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She’d have to ask him about that, too.

Because asking questions gives you answers to most of life’s mysteries.

She couldn’t deny she loved mysteries.

Shawn, aka Shade, was certainly one.

Shade straddled his quiet sled and stared at the house. Lights were on inside and, even though the night hadn’t completely swallowed up the daylight yet, a porch light shone bright.

The house appeared welcoming. A great home, a great neighborhood, a great town for a woman raising two daughters.

He wondered if Chelle was alone inside waiting for him, or if her girls were home. If they weren’t, he’d have a hard time concentrating on his first “lesson.”

After fucking her against the shed Sunday night, he’d had a hard time concentrating on anything. He’d spent too much time remembering how her hot, wet pussy responded to him being inside her. It had fucking pulsed, even gripped him like a fist.

He’d used his own fist last night. Twice. But it wasn’t the same. No substitute existed for a warm, willing woman who made him hard as fuck.

Chelle did that.

Even thinking about her now, knowing they’d be spending time together and sitting close, woke up his dick.

But he wasn’t here for that tonight. He was here for their deal. Their barter. Her attempt to teach him to read in exchange for his help with the painting. He was pretty fucking sure that deal would be quickly broken when she discovered he was impossible to teach.

After swinging a leg over his Night Train, he shrugged out of his cut. She knew now what and who he was, what and who he belonged to, but that didn’t mean her girls did.

He also wasn’t sure how she felt about it all.

He wouldn’t mention it as long as she didn’t. If it was an issue, he had no doubt, she’d bring it up.

Not that it would change anything.

His club was his family and that was fucking that. No woman would change that.

Jesus fuck, he was only here to learn to read. That was it.

He removed his black skullcap and face covering, and tucked them in the saddlebag next to his folded cut.

His stomach churned as he turned and stared at the house again. He scratched the back of his neck, then clamped a hand around it, twisting it back and forth.

He was only putting off the inevitable.

Her finding out how fucking stupid he was. How unteachable.

He pressed his lips together as the front door opened and she stepped outside onto the porch, calling out, “Are you just going to stand there? Or are you coming inside?”

He wanted to come inside Chelle. He wanted to mark her as his, like when Justice pissed on a bush to mark his territory.

The intense need to do just that had been eating at him.

While that thought was fucking crazy, it was too damn true.

He shook himself mentally before he sported a full-blown hard-on and strode from where his sled was parked along the side of her paved driveway, down her little flower-lined walkway and up the steps.

She didn’t step back, she stayed right where she stood, only her face tipping up as he closed in. He didn’t stop until he was only inches from her. Close enough to feel her breath softly escape her parted lips, see her pupils dilate and her nipples pucker under the thin, V-neck, long-sleeved tee she wore.

No buttons. No easy access.

But this white, almost transparent, shirt clung to her curves, emphasizing her tits and slightly narrower waist. She wasn’t skinny, not even close.

Fuck no. That was one thing that turned him off to some of the sweet butts. A couple of them didn’t have much substance, and he wasn’t talking brain power. Because some of them lacked a bit of that, too.

He liked a woman with enough flesh to dig his fingers into. He wanted a woman whose body was as far from a man as it could get. Not hard, but soft.

He’d had sex with plenty of men and not by choice. Now he had a choice, he wanted generous tits, ass and pussy that made him forget his real name.

Chelle was all of that.

Even more.

She was the whole fucking package. Looks, personality and brains, too.

Even better, her presence settled him. He didn’t know how, didn’t know why.

It just did.

He used the back of his fingers to brush a few stands of her strawberry-blonde hair away from her eyes. “Where are your glasses?”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. When she licked her lips, he followed that movement, too. “I only wear contacts while I’m working. I haven’t had a chance to remove them yet.”

They stared at each other a few more moments and a flush covered her chest. He wondered if she was remembering what happened behind the shed, too.

She cleared her throat, but her words still came out huskily. “Come inside.”

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