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“I’ve met men from other MCs before, but when you talk about the Knights it sounds like you guys are so similar to the Wind Dragons. That’s probably why you all get along so well.”
“They are amazing men,” he replies, and my eyes go back to his hands. “And yeah we do share the same values, I think. Probably why Rhett didn’t kick me out when he saw me walk in with you.”
He’s right. None of them gave him a hard time, and these are men who have threatened to beat the shit out of guys I have been seen with in the past. They like Atlas. And they didn’t say anything about us showing up together, even as friends.
“Do you live at the Knights clubhouse?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah, I do live there. I have an investment house, though, but I’ve rented it out.”
He lives a typical biker lifestyle. This is a man right here who lives and breathes a motorcycle club, lives there, works with bikes and can only offer me the same life I’ve always had.
Friends is definitely the way to go here.
“Your silence speaks wonders about what you think about that,” he says, tone flat.
“No judgment. I’m just processing it all.”
He’s sexy, there’s no doubt about that. And there is sexual tension between us. In fact, maybe that’s what’s clouding my mind right now. I need to focus on the reality of the situation, not how blue his eyes are.
He’s everything I’ve said that I don’t want.
Basically I’ve always been single. I’ve never considered myself in a fully committed relationship before, and I don’t even know if I’d be any good at one. My focus has always been on my career and my family.
“What’s your favorite color?” he asks, making me laugh at the simplicity of his question.
“Black. Yours? And don’t you dare try and tell me that black isn’t a color.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Mine is red,” he replies. “Food?”
“I live to eat, so I love lots of food,” I say. “I think seafood is my favorite. Have you ever tried Sri Lankan food? I think Sri Lankan crab curry is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“I haven’t, but now I want to.”
“You must. There’s a restaurant not too far from my apartment.”
“I guess I need to try it out, then,” he replies casually.
We’re quiet for a bit and I’m wondering why he doesn’t try to ask me out. I know I said I don’t date bikers, but we agreed to be friends. Friends have to eat, right?
“I heard that you don’t really openly date women. So what’s the story? All you have is a bunch of sneaky hook-ups?”
He laughs. “Let me guess, Cara told you that, and Con told her that.”
“I don’t know where the source originally came from—”
“I’ve never been one to date around just to pass the time. I don’t want just anyone on the back of my bike. So yeah, I don’t bring women around, and I won’t until I’m with someone who is right for me,” he explains, shrugging his broad shoulders.
“So they’re all sneaky links,” I surmise.
This time he stays quiet, so I know that I’m right.
There’s no way in hell a man who looks like that isn’t having sex.
“A man who looks like what?” he asks in a smug tone, and it’s then I realize that I said that out loud.
Fuck.
“Nothing,” I say a little too quickly.
