Page 43 of Tank’s Weakness

I nod. “I’m not upset about it or anything. She made me into who I am.”

“She also might be the reason you need to control so much. You felt like your life was out of control when you were a kid.”

I smile. “That’s what my therapist says.”

“Maybe I should become one then,” he jokes.

“Nah, biker mechanic works for you. It’s sexy.”

He lets out a deep laugh, and for a moment, I get lost in how carefree he looks.

This man is such a contradiction. He’s tough yet soft. He dominates a room yet craves submission. He’s a biker, yet I can still see that young boy who needed protection.

And me? I want to be the one to protect him.

Tank

She’s gorgeous. I love how her hair is slightly curly with the reddish orange color like a beacon. My beacon to show me the way home.

It’s too early for talk like that, but over the past couple of weeks since I met her, I have realized I don’t want this to be something we only do a few times and then she moves on.

The idea of her being with another man makes me want to rip his heart out and feed it to our pigs.

That’s too intense. She craves control, so I need to convince her that she wants this. Make it her idea to keep me. I need to get her so tangled up with me that she can’t even think about another man.

“Are you Irish?” I ask, touching her hair.

She shakes her head. “My father was Scottish. Mom met him when she was overseas on a trip with my grandparents. They tried to find him when she found out she was pregnant, but no one knew who he was. All she had was a first name and a night she would never forget.”

“Was he a teen as well?”

She nods. “He was in Edinburgh on a trip with his parents. They happened to be staying at the same place. They were each there for several days, hanging out until Mom decided she wanted to lose her virginity to him. She describes it as the best night of her life and that she doesn’t regret it or me for even a second. Sometimes I wonder if he would have been a good dad, but then I remember that I didn’t need him. I turned out just fine on my own.”

My heart hurts for her. I wonder if I could get Fox to look into it for her. I bet he can find out who the man is.

I tuck that away for later. “Well, I assume you got his hair.” I run a strand through my fingers.

She nods. “And his eyes. My mom has brown eyes, but both my grandparents have blue. She said my father did too, and with the way genes work, it makes sense.”

“Well, thank God for him then because your fiery red hair and eyes so blue oceans can’t compare are some of my favorite parts about you.”

She blushes as she looks up at me. “Trust me, you aren’t that difficult to look at either.”

“Face tattoos and all?”

She snorts. “I know you thought you were doing something when you got them, but I hate to break it to you, they only add to the appeal. You’re like a bad boy Greek god.”

“Your Greek god to command. Does that make you feel powerful?” I rasp, cupping her cheek.

She nods, biting her lip.

“Good. You should. You have all the control here,” I remind her.

She nods. “I actually have homework for us to complete.”

She stands, heading over to the counter to pull out a folder. She grabs a pen, then comes back to the table.

“This is a yes, no, maybe list. We go through it and answer what we would be interested in and what are hard no’s.”