Page 55 of Life Or Death

“You can ask me anything you want. Just know I hold judgment on whether or not I answer you.”

She rolls her eyes, but her lips curve slightly. “Such a badass.”

“Ask your question, Jess.”

“Okay.” She readjusts the strap of her dress, drawing my attention to her shoulder. I’d really like to give her a mark there too. “No one here knows about us, do they?”

I tear my gaze away from her shoulder. “You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“I know Dread knows you married me, but the rest of the club doesn’t. Am I right?”

I pause, considering my answer carefully. The truth is, I’m not even sure why I’m keeping it a secret. In the beginning, I told myself I had a reputation to uphold. If my brothers knew how far gone I was for this girl, they’d lose all respect for me.

They needed a leader they could depend on.

One who put their needs before his own.

Not a president who was willing to deplete their reserves and take all their money so he could fix the girl he was obsessed with.

But the more this thing between us goes on, the more I think I’m keeping it to myself because I don’t want to share her with anyone. I like having something that’s all mine, even if it’s fake.

Even if it has an expiration date.

“No need for them to know,” I finally say.

“Because it’s not real?”

She says it so nonchalantly, and I hate how she can casually dismiss something that’s been consuming my every thought for weeks.

“Yeah, exactly.”

I stare at her, watching as something flickers across her face. For one foolish second, I let myself believe it’s disappointment, but then reality slams into me.

“How old are you?” she asks suddenly.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Where’d that come from?”

She shrugs. “Just curious.”

“Are you going to ask me what my favorite color is too?”

She bends her knee, wincing slightly as she nudges me with her foot.

“Maybe. I might even ask you more personal questions, like how old you were when you lost your virginity and how often do you masturbate.” I don’t know what kind of expression crosses my face, but she laughs at me, nudging me with her foot again. “Come on, tell me. You can’t be that old.”

“Thirty-five. Black. Fourteen. Twice a day.”

“Black isn’t a color, fourteen is young, and twice a day is impressive.”

I grin at her, and she returns the gesture, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“By the way, you’re practically ancient.” She straightens her leg, then brings the other one to my lap, settling it there as though we sit together like this every night. “I’m kidding. Age is nothing but a number, but I am curious about something else.”

“Of course, you are.”

“You’re thirty-five, and you’ve never been married before?”

“No.”