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I can’t say anything. I am honestly shocked that he’s put this much thought into helping me. He doesn’t know me. But at the same time, the thought of it is sweet. I’m not sure how he’s taking my silence because it looks like he is fighting within himself.
“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I can put it on you, or you can do it yourself. Whatever is easiest for you and causes you the least amount of pain.”
“I think that I should know your name before you have your hands all over me,” I say before I can stop myself. I shouldn’t want to have his hands on me. I should just say thank you and put it on myself, that would be the smart decision, and at this moment, I am anything but. I watch him as his smile lights up his entire face, and he lets out a soft chuckle.
“Whitley. My name is Whitley.”
“Whitley,” I say, liking the way that it feels on my tongue. I just stare at Whitley. My mysterious man is no longer a full-blown mystery. Wait.My mysterious man?The number of questions I am asking myself tonight must be some kind of record.
He laughs some more before opening his mouth. The same mouth that my eyes have been drawn to multiple times tonight. “This is where you tell me your name.”
Right. My name.
“I figured you heard it earlier.”
“Yeah, I heard. But that’s not what I meant. I meant your real name. The one that no one else calls you.”
“How do you know that they don’t call me it?”
“I don’t know a lot, but what I do know about MC’s road names are always used. So tell me, who is sitting here, in my living room, right now?”
I want to tell him. I also want to close the distance that has gotten smaller with each statement he made. No. No. I can’t do that. No. That’s not me. No. I let out a breath and decide to tell him the name that only Zombie, Cowboy, and Judge know. It’s a name that I have held close to me because my life was trash when I was growing up.
“You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry for prying.”
I shake my head. “No. No, it’s okay. It’s just…. I was made fun of a lot for my name. I honestly should have changed it the second I could, but I found the club and got my road name, so I didn’t think about it. It’s…. Fuck. Okay. You can’t laugh at me, alright? I will punch you in the face and forget all about the fact that you’ve been helping me.”
“Why would I make fun of you? You heard me when I said that my name is Whitley, right?”
“Yeah, well, your name is sexy as fuck.” I slap a hand over my mouth and risk looking at him. His eyes hold pure fire. His face morphed. Going from teasing to something sinister. But the type of sin that feels good when you take a chance to explore it.
Fuck.
I need to get away from the fact that I just said what I did and get back to the conversation. I also very badly need my dick to calm the fuck down. I look down, and the noticeable bulge in his pants makes my mouth water. I cough and rub the back of my neck before I let something else happen.
“Sandy. My name is Sandy.”
“Sandy?”
His tone isn’t malicious, but the fact that he is questioning it already pisses me off. My dick deflates, and I turn toward him. I let out a groan of pain, but I don’t care. “I told you not to make fun of it.”
“Hey,” he says while bringing his hands up in surrender, “I wasn’t making fun of it. I think it fits you. I like it.”
I am instantly calm and just nod my head at him. Something tells me that he is telling me the truth.
“Now, can I put this on you? Or would you like to do it?”
I should tell him I’ll do it. I should take the tube and leave, but even telling myself this for a second time doesn’t make me do what I should.
“If you don’t mind, can you do it?”
He nods, and I grab my shirt from behind my neck. I swear I hear a soft moan. But I am too lost in the feeling of being here, wrapped in his scent and without a shirt, to question it.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I can hear the anger in his voice, and I look down. I look like I got fucked up because, well, I did. I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t. I wouldn’t. So, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I was jumped in town. But some people saw and broke it up before any more damage could be done. I’ll be alright.”
When I glance at him, he’s taking stock of all the bruises, and I swear he is getting madder with each bruise he counts. “Some of these, I can’t tell if it’s bruising or the tattoos that cover your right side.”
