Page 1 of Hash

Chapter

One

AISLING

Eighteen months earlier

“Are you staying here tonight?” I ask softly, my finger lightly tracing designs into the thick mass of hair that covers Hash’s chest. Some girls aren’t into hairy guys, but I think it’s one of the sexiest things.

“Yeah, baby doll,” Hash answers, already sounding half asleep.

I settle in on his chest, breathing in everything that is Hash as the giddy feeling in my stomach every time he tells me he isn’t leaving flutters around. This thing between us is new. And I’m not even sure what to label this as. It started as a fling but now it feels like he’s mine. I know I want him to be mine, but guys like him never settle for long. Hash lives fast and hard, going wherever the moment takes him without so much as looking back.

He’s been in my bed for almost three months straight.

It’s only growing stronger and more intense.

What started out as a hookup once a month when he came into the salon to get his hair cut, turned into an every-weekend thing. Once a week he would settle into Frankie’s chair, give me a quick wink, and then saunter out with the same easy confidence he had when he walked in.

Somehow, he always came in when I was in-between clients, leaving me with nothing to do but try not to let him catch me practically eye-fucking him. There was always a small part of me that hoped he would make an appointment with me, but a man like him isn’t waxing anything or getting any sort of skin treatment done anytime soon.

Thank God I have enough shame, or else I would have been on all fours crawling across the floor ready to eat him up.

The first thing about him that caught my attention was the hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy with a mullet who can actually rock it. Pair that with a beard he lets get a little out of control, driving Frankie nuts every time he comes in. She always cleans him up, though, even if I think he looks better leaving it a little wild. Everything about him just does it for me.

I’m not naive.

I know he’s a member of the Dirty Devils MC. He refused to take the worn leather cut off, even for a haircut. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though. My favorite part is watching the muscles in his biceps tighten as he raises his arms to brush the clippings that have fallen through the cape off. That’s the only time I can truly look him over without him catching me because his attention isn’t on me. The entire time he sits in that chair his green eyes follow my every move.

Growing up in Ravenna Heights, I always heard about the club and was warned to stay far away. They were nothing but trouble, everyone said. But somehow, I think everyone’s got it wrong. Every time Hash has walked into the salon, he’s been nothing but kind.

Finally, the moment I had been waiting for happened. While tucking his wallet into his back pocket after paying Frankie, he asked me out for a drink after I finished for the day. I was so shocked that Frankie had to answer for me.

We met up at a bar around the corner from the salon. It was a little hole in the wall place that Frankie and I often go to on Fridays after work to blow off a little steam. I’ve never seen any of the Dirty Devils members in there, though. After all, they have their own bar. One drink turned into two, and before I knew it, I was inviting him back to my house before we tumbled into my bed.

We had an unspoken agreement for friends with benefits; he never stayed the night, and I never asked.

Until things shifted.

They’ve shifted in a way that I don’t know what’s happening because outside of him staying the night a few nights a week and the pillow talk growing more personal, it hasn’t changed.

All I know is I don’t want this to end, but in my experience, a love like this always dies. Something tells me that this one is going to wreck me beyond the point of repair.

“If your hand goes any lower, I can’t be held accountable for what happens next,” Hash rumbles, his voice gruff from nearly being asleep.

He should know by now that him telling me that is only egging me on, not halting me.

I drag my finger lower, lightly scraping my nail along the patch of hair that leads down.

Hash’s hand locks around my wrist, holding it in place. “Alright, your call, baby doll.”

Keeping hold of my wrist, he pushes my arm against the bed before his large frame towers over me, leaving me with no choice but to lean back. His lips crash down on mine as his hips press in, forcing their way between my legs. I gasp into his mouth at the feel of his cock I just had not even thirty minutes ago, hard and ready to go again. The only thing stopping it is the thin scrap of black lace.

Hash grabs hold of my thong, giving it a hard tug, snapping it off. “Don’t know why you even fucking bother with these things. All they are is a waste of time.”

“They might be a waste of time to you, but I love when you rip them off of me.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he rumbles as he thrusts two fingers into my wet pussy. “Drenched.”