Chapter 15 #2
“If the right woman came along, I’d be fine with making her my ol’ lady .
. .” My words trail when I notice her brows pinch together in confusion, and the corners of my mouth lift.
“Ol’ lady is a term bikers use for their women.
” I point between us. “If this thing between us was real, that’s what you’d be. ”
“So, instead of calling me your wife, you’d call me your ol’ lady?”
I don’t know about that. I like both terms, which is surprising.
“Yeah,” I say. “And I’d be your old man.”
She hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know how I feel about that. ”
“What if I told you it was the highest honor a man like me could give a woman?”
She looks at me curiously. “How so?”
“Well, when a man declares a woman his ol’ lady, he’s making a statement. He’s putting everyone on notice. She becomes an extension of him and something sacred to his brothers. The same brothers who would die for him, now would die for her too.”
“So, what you’re saying is when a biker takes an ol’ lady, he’s head over heels in love with her.”
The word love hits me square in the chest, but I don’t flinch.
“Yeah,” I tell her, my thumbs still working circles into the muscle of her calf. “And that he’d rather die than live without her.”
“Pretty deep stuff.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She holds my gaze for a beat longer.
“You’ve loved no one like that.”
It’s not a question. It’s an observation, and it cuts deeper than it should.
“I guess I haven’t,” I admit.
She looks away then, her gaze dropping to her hands where they rest in her lap. The silence that follows is heavy, weighted with something neither of us seems willing to name.
“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Me neither.”
Silence stretches between us, and I avert my focus to her legs. Instead of kneading her muscles, I just let my hands skate over her skin mindlessly. If I’m crossing a line, she doesn’t seem all that bothered by it.
She looks relaxed.
Her head falls back against the couch, and her eyes begin to drift around the common room, taking in the chaos that surrounds us.
“So, this is the infamous clubhouse, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s a pigsty.”
I bark out a laugh, my hand pausing on her leg. “It’s not usually this bad. With the wedding having to be moved here, things got out of control.”
“Lucifer,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper, “there’s a thong hanging from the ceiling fan.”
I glance up, following her gaze, and sure as fuck there’s a black lace thong dangling from one of the blades.
I shake my head. “Fucking saddle bunnies.”
“Didn’t you say they’re the ones who clean up around here?”
“Yeah.” I eye the thong, then look back at her. “Now you see why I wanted to give you a job here?”
Her eyes meet mine, and she hesitates for a beat before she asks, “About that . . . is that offer still on the table?”
I study her face, searching for any sign that she’s joking, but she looks completely serious.
“Do you want it to be?”
She sits up a little straighter, adjusting the strap that keeps sliding off her shoulder whenever she moves.
“I need to work, Lucifer. Tori’s drowning in bills, and I’m sitting in that apartment all day, feeling useless.
If you’re offering me a legitimate job, then yeah, I want it to be on the table. ”
I consider her words. Having her here, in my space, is a recipe for disaster, especially now that I know how she tastes. I’m never going to be able to keep my hands off her. But I can’t say no to her.
She might not be my ol’ lady, but she sure as fuck is my kryptonite.
“You start tomorrow.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”
I’m going to regret this, I’m sure of it.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well, I have therapy early tomorrow, but I can start after that. Say tenish?”
“What time is therapy?”
“Eight.”
“I’ll be at your apartment at seven. We’ll go for breakfast.” I glance at the clock across the room. That gives me less than ten hours to figure out how the fuck I’m going to explain our new hire to the club.
“Oh, you don’t have to. Tori?—”
My gaze snaps back to her. “Tori needs a break.” I glance at her legs. “You still feeling any pain?”
“No.”
I nod. “ Good. We should get back to the wedding.”
“Yeah, you’re right. People are probably talking.” She slowly swings her legs over the side of the couch, and I stand up. My eyes catch on the marks displayed on her neck, and I lick my lips.
If they’re not talking already, they sure as fuck will be when she reappears with those beauties.
I hold out my hand to her, and when her palm slides over mine, I intertwine our fingers and pull her to her feet. But I don’t let go as I start to lead her toward the door.
“Lucifer?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we going to talk about what happened? About the kiss?”
I shake my head and push open the door. We step outside and start for the yard, the sounds of the wedding growing louder and louder with every step we take.
“No,” I finally reply.
“But—”
I stop walking, and her head jolts up, those pretty eyes so expressive as they stare back at me.
“Jess, I just got my cock to finally calm down. If we talk about what happened, I’m going to get hard again, and this time I’m not gonna sit in agony and massage your legs.
” I step closer to her, my fingers squeezing hers.
“This time, I’m going to take it out and make you watch what kissing you does to me. ”
She goes completely still beside me, her cheeks flushing a deep, gorgeous pink. A sharp intake of breath escapes her lips, and I watch her chest rise and fall with it, those perfect tits straining against the thin fabric of her dress.
I smirk, leaning in close until my lips hover just above hers. Her breath fans across my mouth, warm and shaky, and I can practically taste her.
“Careful, wife,” I murmur, my voice dropping low. “You look like you like that idea.”
I close the distance and nip at the corner of her mouth, catching that plump lower lip between my teeth for just a fraction of a second before pulling back. She gasps, her free hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide and glassy.
I rake my gaze over her, taking in the flush spreading down her neck and the way her chest heaves. If I were a betting man—and I fucking am—I’d bet everything I own that her panties are ruined right now.
My eyes slide back to her tits, those perfect, braless tits, and a dark thought crosses my mind.
That’s if she’s even wearing panties.
“Tomorrow,” I say, my voice rough, “make sure you wear a bra.”
Her eyes widen, and she looks down at herself, her gaze dropping to where her nipples are still poking against the fabric. She lifts her free hand, trying to cover herself while still clinging to my hand with the other. The gesture is so fucking innocent it makes my cock throb.
“They’re perfect,” I tell her.
Then I turn back to the yard, tugging her along with me as I head toward the table where Amelia, Maddox, and that fucking cowboy are sitting.
As we approach, Jude spots us first. His gaze moves from me to Jess, and then his eyes drop to her neck. His jaw tightens, and something flashes across his face.
I release Jess’s hand and wink, taunting him like the devil I am.
“Enjoy your night, pal.”
I turn and walk away before he can respond, before Jess can say anything, before I can change my mind and drag her back inside. My hands are shaking slightly as I make my way back to where Dread is standing by the bar.
He’s watching me with that knowing look of his, one eyebrow raised, a fresh beer in his hand.
“I’m almost afraid to ask.”
I grab the bottle from his grip and take a long pull, letting the cold liquid do absolutely nothing to cool the fire burning through me.
“She starts tomorrow.”
Dread’s other eyebrow joins the first. “Starts what?”
“Working here.”
He blinks at me, then lets out a low whistle. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“Probably.”
I take another swig of beer and glance back over my shoulder. Jess has taken her seat beside Amelia, her back toward the cowboy. She nods at something Amelia says, but her eyes are still on me.
I turn away and drain the rest of the beer in one long pull.
Yeah. I’m definitely out of my fucking mind.