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“I did?” Her eyes went wide and she automatically covered her mouth.
He grinned, shook his head and pulled her hand away from her face. “Yeah. You did it while you were concentratin’. It was hot as fuck. Think you gave a boner to the fucker at the next table.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the guy watching her.
“He’s been watching me?”
“Sweetheart, there’s a whole bunch of people with dicks watchin’ you. Especially when you jumped up and down. And every time you bend over, they’re checkin’ out your ass. I’ve been stickin’ close to block their view.” He was coming up with all kinds of good excuses to touch her.
Fuckin’ genius.
“Huh. I thought you were sticking close to hide your own boner.”
He barked out a laugh. “Fuck no. That monster can’t be hidden.”
Amusement made her eyes glitter. “I’m not sure I’d call it a monster.”
He slapped a palm to his wounded chest. “Damn, woman.”
She practically bounced back to the table. “Maybe you can help me with the next shot and I can gauge its size a little better.”
“There are other ways to do that, too.”
“But not in this bar.”
“Not in this bar,” he repeated softly, his humor quickly fleeing at the possibility of getting her under him tonight.
It had been a few days since he’d had sex with anyone other than his own fist. That wasn’t normal for him but then he’d still been kind of bent about the whole Lizzy thing. It had fucked up his normal groove.
Shay went over to the high-top table, grabbed her drink, took a larger sip this time, then rubbed her hands together when she turned back to the pool table. “Okay.”
“Look at you, all cocky and shit,” he said.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, and you’re not?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Fuck no. Humble as fuck. Once you get to know me better, you’ll see how true that is.”
She actually rolled her fucking eyes at that.
“You don’t believe me?”
She looked him dead in the eyes and answered, “No.”
He snorted and glanced back at the table. “It’s still your shot.”
“I get to shoot again?”
“’Til you miss. Just don’t miss and you could win this. Right now, you control the table.”
She glanced over at said table. “I’ve got a bunch of balls yet.”
He decided not to respond to that. He reminded himself to only give her small doses.
He’d been told in the past he was “too much” and that was the main reason he tended to stick with the sweet butts and… the blonde who would not be named because he was evicting her from his brain. But dealing with randoms sometimes got a little sticky.
Shay approached him instead of the table. She stopped right in front of him and touched one of the patches on the front of his cut. “So tell me… The rest are self-explanatory, but what does an Original mean?”
“Means I was part of the original club before…” He needed to choose his words carefully and not let what happened with the Originals scare her off. He was going to treat her like a skittish doe until he knew she was otherwise, just to be safe. “The end.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “The end?”
“Bunch of shit went down. Everyone… scattered.” He needed to avoid telling her that a shitload of Originals died or ended up in prison because they were all turning on and killing each other. The club had turned into a total shit show.
“When was that?”
He had just earned his full-set of rockers when it all went down. “Around twenty-two years ago.” Maybe now it was getting closer to twenty-three years. Didn’t matter since it felt like it could’ve been yesterday or a lifetime ago, depending on the memory.
“Huh.” Her brow furrowed and she chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds.
He was tempted to volunteer to nibble on it for her.
“That’s about when my father disappeared. Before that, I remember seeing the Blood Fury around town but both my parents told me to steer clear of them. They said the MC was bad news.”
“Yeah, they were right.” He didn’t want to spook her by thinking the current Fury was like the old Fury, but he didn’t want to sugarcoat it, either. He’d just rather avoid some, or most, of the gory details.
His intention was for her to be on the back of his sled later when they headed back to the motel, not for her to split early after calling one of those cab-like services. Lyft or Uber or whatever the fuck they were.
“My father loved to ride. He had a really nice Harley Davidson and I lived for the days he’d take me with him. Because of those warnings, I assumed he didn’t ride with that club. But I still wondered sometimes when I saw them around town, since he was gone a lot at night. He’d get home from work, have dinner with us and most nights he’d kiss us goodnight, then head out to hang with his buddies. Unless the weather was bad, he always took his bike.”
