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I sucked in a breath then turned to face him. I took a couple of mental pictures of him lying there, sculpted abs on show, the thin scar representing the night we met marring his otherwise perfect torso. Hades, in my bed, with my dog, looking like he belonged there.
“I like you,” I mumbled quietly, forcing myself to keep eye contact. “I like you a lot. And I don’t know how it works in the club. I’m not really experienced with the outlaw world, but I do understand that fidelity isn’t something always practiced. Then again, it’s not something many regular men practice.”
Fuck, I was babbling. Again.
“If you, by chance, like me too and want something more than fucking, I would need you to not fuck anyone else.” I had to look away from his penetrating stare, hating that I did not sound like the articulate, strong adult I’d considered myself to be.
I felt incredibly awkward and exposed standing there in a dress that covered me more than most of my wardrobe, Hades still staring at me. He was naked and lying down, yet he held all the power.
He let me stand there, emotionally sweating from the fear that I’d just fucked everything up. After what felt like an eternity, he got out of bed and strode over to me. I’d thought it would be incredibly hard for a man to stride like a badass while naked.
Hades managed it.
In a big way.
He thrust a hand into my hair at the base of my skull then pulled my body to his. I sighed in relief as my clothed body pressed against his naked one.
“Freya, there is no way I will have my cock inside anyone else but you,” he murmured.
My body sagged ever so slightly. I’d heard the rumors about ‘club girls’, about them being around specifically for tension relief. I hadn’t judged them, not even a little bit. But I also wouldn’t have trusted myself around them if I knew that Hades was fucking them at the same time he was fucking me. Not that that would be their fault. But jealousy had never known reason.
“You guessed right. I don’t do relationships,” he continued.
My previously relaxed body coiled up tight, shame and rejection washing over me like a tidal wave.
His hand moved from the back of my neck to cradle my jaw. “I don’t know how to do a relationship,” he added. His voice was not gentle, but I knew he was trying to be. “What I do know is that now that I’ve got a taste of you, I’m not fuckin’ lettin’ you go.” His hand squeezed my hip to make his point.
Fuck, way to put a gal on an emotional rollercoaster in the space of thirty seconds.
“What does that mean?” I questioned quietly, unable to hide my insecurity.
“What it means is that you’re on the back of my bike.”
I blinked. Although I was relatively ignorant about the outlaw lifestyle, I knew that ‘you’re on the back of my bike’ was biker speak for ‘you’re my girlfriend.’
“Okay, if I’m going to be on the back of your bike, I need to change my outfit.” My voice was all breathy, my body feeling so light I was afraid if he weren’t holding me, I might’ve actually floated away.
“Okay,” Hades said.
“You should get dressed too,” I reminded him, my eyes flickering down his naked body, marveling at it once more. Hunger built at the base of my belly. A gal did not get used to a body like his. I had yet to trace every single one of his tattoos, obsess over every detail. We’d been busy. “I know that you guys are all about freedom and breaking all the rules, but I feel like even the Sons of Templar might frown on you arriving naked.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. I considered that a victory.
With great effort, I walked back into my closet to find an outfit that was motorcycle appropriate.
Once I was safely inside, I did a girly little dance, sans the scream.
Though I’d lived somewhat of an interesting and rather transient life, I had never found myself on the back of a motorcycle, so I had no idea how to dress for it.
There was a lot of pressure riding on this barbeque. I wanted to look like me but the absolute best version of me. Hades had never talked about his parents, not that we were at the point of talking about families—thank God—but I was going to take a shot in the dark and say he wasn’t close with them. Meeting the club was his version of meeting his parents. The men I wasn’t worried about. I did well with men on account of my dress sense, my boobs and my occupation. However, I did not usually do as well with women. On account of my dress sense, my boobs and my occupation.
