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She snorts, “Good luck finding room.” I smile at that, it’s true, this bitch is tatted all the way up, and one day soon, I’ll have her tell me about them all, but right now, I need her up and gone so I can show this club I ain’t no pussy-assed bitch.
Especially the women here, they need a lesson, particularly Shannan—she ain’t gonna have me—or she’s gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Justine
Hangman drops me athome a little after ten and I go straight back to bed. It’s not often I’m out late at night, having a wild time, and last night proved it since I’m actually sleeping more than I ever have.
I have so much going through my head right now that I don’t sleep for long, so I get up to make myself a hot chocolate. Hangman wants me as his; he barely knows me yet wants to claim me. It doesn’t make any sense. Plus, we’ve only had one date, how does he know he wants me? I’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight. Lust at first sight sure, but this is going warp speed.
He said the next time he brings me to his clubhouse it’s to get me tatted up as his. And while the idea turns me on, I don’t want to be owned, branded like cattle. Plus, I just got out of a long-term committed relationship. Sure, we were mostly just friends with benefits but still. Isn’t there a rule about moving on too soon?
And this is fast. Or maybe it’s just me, considering Tomas has been my only boyfriend.
“Knock, knock,” Tomas calls out, entering the house. He got the keys to his new house a few days ago and has been slowly moving all of his things over. Which reminds me, I’m going to need to place an order for new furniture, otherwise I’ll be sitting on the floor. Most of the items were his, except the bedroom stuff.
“Hey, stranger.” I smile at him.
“You got home late,” he states, giving me a sly wink.
I laugh and shrug, “Yeah, I guess. I’m exhausted, but too much shit is running through my head for me to get any sleep.”
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks, leaning against the wall.
Sighing, I take my cup of hot chocolate and sit at my dining room table, the only real piece of furniture I have since Tomas moved out with all of his things. “Hangman is a typical biker, likeSons of Anarchyonly, much, much more.”
Tomas smirks and pulls out a chair to sit down. “So, he’s no Jax Teller.” He shrugs.
I groan, leaning back in my chair. “He’s so far from Jax Teller it isn’t funny, he’s rough, he’s intense, he’s demanding. He’s one hundred percent an alpha male. Which doesn’t sit right with me.”
Tomas snorts and places a hand over mine. “That’s because you’re an alpha yourself, you guys butt heads already or something?”
“No, he just told me I was his and next time I was at his clubhouse he was claiming me.” I’m still scratching my head over that bit of information. “You and I just ended a sexual relationship, and now I’m already whoring around with someone else, not even a month later. And now this guy, who I only had one date with, or more precisely, one night of sex with, is saying I’m his.”
Tomas gives my hand a gentle squeeze and smiles at me. “I think this is a good thing, you need someone that challenges you. And what you just described to me, well, seems like he’s got you cornered. And I love that for you.”
