ZODIAC
Elle’s presence in my apartment left me both irritated and hard as a rock. I knew why she was here, even if she acted like she wasn’t sure. I didn’t blame her for craving an answer to why she stopped saying no.
But she shouldn’t be in Baton Rouge. Her death would rip apart her family and cripple the Crimson Guard. I’d be fairly fucking upset over it, too.
As Elle crawled closer on the couch and straddled my lap, I lost track of the many reasons I ought to be pissed about her visit. Instead, I smiled at how she watched me.
Such a little thing as an old horror movie had gotten Elle’s engine revving. Her fingers tap-danced their way across my shoulders. She seemed unsure. I liked how she wasn’t a vixen. Everything she showed me was real.
Now, Elle watched me with a curious, lovestruck gaze. “You’re a bad man.”
“That’s true.”
“I don’t want to fall for a bad man.”
“It’s too late for that now.”
“You should say something reassuring.”
“I’m going to make you come hard enough to see stars.”
Elle’s gray eyes lost their glow. I felt her thinking, reconsidering, pulling away.
I hated when people teased me with a prize, only to add a bunch of fucking strings to their gift.
As a kid, no one offered me shit. Then, once I had power, people started playing their games and tempting me with what they didn’t really want to offer.
“I was embarrassed by my feelings for you,” Elle said as her fingers stroked my cheeks, and her gaze studied my bare chest.
“Why?”
“You’re a gross poonhound. What kind of woman swoons over a man with an eye for nothing more than fucking?”
“How exactly am I gross?”
“Your outside is super-hot, but your brain is gross,” Elle said before laughing. “Don’t get up in arms over that. You know you’re a terrible person with no heart. Yet here I am acting like you might want to be my boyfriend.”
Narrowing my gaze, I asked, “Is that how you really see me?”
“Sure. We’re strangers. You’re always talking about pussy. We never share normal conversations. All I know about you is that you were a foster kid and that you backstabbed your old president and his loyal people to claim their club.”
“Your father did the same shit to Trigger before you were born.”
“Was Wrecker a monster with plans to kill you?”
“No, but he was a weak man with no plans to keep me from getting killed.”
Elle stopped hovering her crotch over mine and settled down onto my lap. “Did you like him?”
“Sure, but I liked living more.”
“Did you feel guilty?”
“I never feel guilty for anything.”
Elle studied me and murmured, “I do.”
“Name something you feel guilty about, or I’ll assume you’re lying.”
“I feel guilty that Sutter doesn’t know his father. What if my drunken hookup was also a genius? They could talk about things that I wouldn’t understand. But I stole that from him by not remembering.”
“Would you track down the guy if you did remember?”
“Yes.”
“What if he were a loser?”
“Well, then, I wouldn’t have to feel guilty, and Sutter wouldn’t need to wonder.”
“Do you wish your kid weren’t a genius?”
“Sometimes, like when I imagine him outgrowing me and leaving Little Memphis.”
“He might stick around.”
“No, he’ll want to attend a great college. He could go into research or become a professor. But whatever he wants in life, it won’t be in Little Memphis. I’ve already accepted how he won’t live in my basement one day.”
“Do you like living with your parents?”
“Yes.”
“Will you stay in the basement after this one?” I asked and slid my hand across her belly.
“Yes.”
“Why not build a house like Lula did?”
“A house is a lot of work. At my parents’ place, I’m one of three adults taking care of stuff. It leaves me with time for my friends and the club.”
“What do you do for the club?”
“I punch people in the face.”
Smiling, I took her hands and ran my fingers over her knuckles. “Not enough to leave these busted up.”
Elle flipped her hands around mine and studied my knuckles. “Yours aren’t busted up, either.”
“People fear me, so I rarely have to throw punches.”
“Why can’t people fear me?”
“Because you’re not the least bit scary.”
“Why would I be scary to a guy who stirs up butterflies in my stomach?”
Wrapping my hands around her hips, I studied Elle. “I don’t want you punching anyone in the face anymore.”
“Thanks for sharing your feelings with me.”
“You have to be safe for my son.”
“Wilbur will demand that his mother be a badass. I know it’s what Sutter loves most about me.”
“You named your first kid after a horror movie bad guy, but my boy gets named after a fucking pig?”
“I loved ‘Charlotte’s Web’ when I was a kid. I still watch it every Thanksgiving.”
“Wilbur is a loser name.”
“We can call him Wil.”
“I won’t call him that. I’ll just call him Little Z.”
“What names do you like?”
“I don’t know, but not Wil. It’s a weenie name.”
Elle laughed and gripped my hands on her hips. “Well, if you can come up with something better, I’m all ears.”
“I was serious about you not punching people. You need to find a different hobby.”
“The club isn’t my hobby. It’s my job.”
“I find it difficult to believe Clint pays you to punch people.”
“I run several safehouses for women and kids in need. Occasionally, that leads to me punching people in the face.”
“I don’t want my son in danger. You’ll need to quit your job and hide in your house until Megatron is outside of your body. Then, you can occasionally leave the house, but never with my kid.”
“I’ll be fat soon,” Elle said, ignoring my rules. “Will you still talk about my pussy once I’m bloated and gross?”
“You’ll be fuckable all day long.”
Elle smiled and leaned forward. “I’m going to kiss you now. I don’t remember our first kiss, so make this one count.”
I let Elle take the lead, just like I did the night we made our critter. Her lips were less confident today. The kiss was more tentative. Her hands cupped my jaw, holding me still while she took what she wanted.
I felt her waiting for me to deepen the kiss. When I didn’t, she frowned and leaned back.
“Not good?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“I think you do.”
“I’m torn between two minds.”
“Explain,” I said, smirking at how she fessed up too much to someone she didn’t trust.
“The more sensible part of my brain wants to treat this like a date. We could get a meal and talk and fool around and maybe play pork the pussy in your bedroom.”
“Wait, that’s the sensible part of your brain?”
“Yes, but then another, more paranoid part of my brain thinks that getting to know you will ruin my warm feelings for you. So, maybe we should just get naked and have fun before Sabrina drives me home. Then, I can keep thinking romantic thoughts about you.”
“Romantic means what?”
“Holding hands and watching movies and sleeping over. Dating stuff like Clint does with Ivy.”
Elle’s words left me a little uncertain. I had wanted her for months. Now, she was on my lap. If I wanted, I could keep her. Or I could just have fun with her. What the fuck did I even want to happen here?