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I gestured around us with my fork.
“Why do you call it that?”
“That’s what it is. Rooms down the hall are locked, minus the can. Back room is for patched brothers only. Even though I live here, kitchen is Swedes’ and he gets territorial. But out here is for everyone to feel at home. No matter what bullshit is going on, what pissin’ matches, personal problems, or beefs, you step through that door and it all gets left outside.”
“You live here?”
“Used to have an apartment next town over but spent most of my time here. Seemed a waste to pay a shit-ton of rent for a place that sat empty.”
“What about when… I mean… Don’t you miss the, uh, privacy?” Her light tone was forced, and her eye were narrowed, sparking with jealousy.
Dropping my fork, I pushed away from the table before gripping her arm and carefully tugging her onto my lap.
Surprisingly, she let me without jamming her own fork into my jugular.
“First, like I said, rooms down the hall are locked. I want privacy, I go there. It’s rare ‘cause I like being around people. Second, if you’re asking about women, I’m thirty-three. I got a past. Bettin’ you do, too, but I sure as fuck don’t wanna hear that shit beyond whether you’re clean and what protection you choose. Though I’m puttin’ it out there now, I’ve always been safe, have proof, and, in our case, prefer that protection to not be a layer between us.”
“We’re not—”
“We are. And ‘cause we’re up against enough bullshit without your jealousy flaring up hot enough to make you go for my piece again, none of the chicks that’ll be around here have had me. No one has had me like you do, period, but I don’t want you side-eyeing every bunny, wonderin’ if she’s been in your spot. And if one wants to start shit and claim she has, lemme know ‘cause that bitch will be out permanently.”
Her eyes widened as she gasped, whispering, “Permanently, as in… dead?”
My head jerked back. “Permanently, like never allowed back here.” I looked at the tiny woman on my lap and wondered—not for the first time—if she was hiding some crazy femme fatale past. “Fuck, you’ve got a ruthless streak.”
“No, I don’t. And I’m not jealous. And we’re not going to… we’re not anything.” Crossing her arms, she glared up at me, daring me to disagree. Challenging me.
But what she didn’t do, not even once, was try to move away.
“Whatever you say.” Starting at the top of her ear, I skimmed my finger along the curve, loving the way she trembled, her full lips parting. When I reached the bottom, I gave her small hoop earring a little tug. “Just don’t expect me to bail you out when you kick off your shoes, pull out your earrings, and beat a chick down in a jealous rage.”
“There’s only one problem with that,” she whispered, putting her palms flat to my chest and slowly rubbing.
Like a hypnotist, a temptress, a fuckin’ siren, her gray eyes lured me in.
“What’s that?” I murmured. My eyes fell to her mouth, my mind on taking it.
With my mouth.
With my dick.
I thought about dragging her up my legs so her rounded ass was pressed against my aching cock.
And that was a mistake when it came to Ophelia. Dropping my guard. Forgetting that, unlike men twice her size, she didn’t hesitate to go toe-to-toe with me.
Because while my mind was on getting her under me, she took her opening.
Gripping one of my nipples in each hand, she pinched.
Hard.
“It’s not the chick that’d get the beatdown,” Ophelia said with a sweet as sin smile before twisting.
My hands shot to my chest but I didn’t have to pry her off. She released her death grip, likely knowing the pain would radiate worse. Happy as could be, she hopped off my lap and returned to her seat.
“Shit. Who purple nurples still?”
She cut into her waffle. “It was effective, wasn’t it?”
