Page 12 of Devil's Dilemma

“Old ladies?Grandmothers?”

Another bark of laughter. “Nah, that’s what we call the wives or significant others.”

Sounds derogatory to me. Suddenly I realise bikers are a breed I know nothing about. “You don’t have an old lady?”

His eyes grow wide, then he snarls, “Wouldn’t be here with you if I had. Don’t roll that way. One woman at a time is all I can handle.”

Well alright then. I seem to have touched another nerve. “So, tell me more about this family.”

Our steaks arrive. For a moment, conversation stops as we apply our fixings to our meals and begin to eat.

“I like that,” Skull points his fork at me.

“Mmm?” With a mouthful of delicious steak, I can’t respond.

“Your expression. You enjoying your food.” His face becomes heated. “Can’t help wondering if you wear that look when something else is in your mouth.”

A glass of water is hastily pushed in my direction as I choke on my food.

Recovered, I rasp, “I cannot believe you said that.” An unrepentant grin encourages me to have the courage to add, “That’s for me to know and you, if you get lucky, to find out.”

“Oh, I fully intend to get lucky at some point.” Skull catches me off guard once again. “Those lips and that sinful mouth, and your…” His hands wave down my body, and his eyes land on my breasts. “Mmm mmm. Bet you taste better than any steak.”

Flustered, I reach for my wine.

He’s not leering or making me uncomfortable. There’s something about the way he’s speaking that shows his appreciation of liberties he eventually anticipates, but there’s no pressure either. Despite him being so forward, instead of making me uneasy, he’s making me feel things that no one else ever has. He’s making me think of myself as a desirable woman. Suddenly it doesn’t matter that I’m larger than most, curvier than models in magazines and on billboards. Skull’s completely focused attention is making me feel feminine and wanted.

“If you could do anything, or go anywhere, what would it be and where?”

His question makes me do a one-eighty, but as though he realises he’s skating too close to the edge, Skull reels the conversation back in.

The rest of the evening continues in the same vein. Mostly spent getting to know each other, with occasional inappropriate comments from him, and heaven help me, a bit of flirting from my side too.

At one point I feel bold enough to ask, “How did you get that scar?”

He looks puzzled.

“Over your eye.” I tap my brow to show him.

“Oh, that. Long, long time ago.” He leans in. “I could make up some story about single-handedly disarming an armed robber, fighting pirates or something. Sure, I could come up with something that sounds sexy, but I’ll start as I mean to go on. Total honesty. I was a four-year-old-kid, I got it by falling out of bed and smashing my head on my bedside table. Bled like a bitch.”

Honesty. I like the sound of that.

I like everything about this evening. It’s easy, companionable, with a promise of sexuality. As the end of our meal and our date approaches, it hits me with a start that I can’t remember having enjoyed myself so much with a man before. We might not have known each other long, but now I’m already counting him as a friend, and someone who could possibly become more.

We’ve laughed, been serious, commiserated. Shared jokes and anecdotes in my case about co-workers, in his, his brothers. I’ve heard about Bitch, the cat who appears to be the boss of the compound, and even about the sweet butts who live there as well. I’d frowned when he’d mentioned them, but while he admitted he’d gone with them when he first patched in, having a woman to himself was more to his taste, and not one who’d been shared by all the men of the club.

Skull had apparently spent nearly a year as a probationer, or prospect as he referred to himself, and has only become a patched member for the last couple of months. Another tell, a twitch of his cheek, and I gather there’s a story there he hasn’t yet told. But hey, this is our first date, and we’ve already talked about more coming after. I don’t need to learn everything tonight.

I’d forgotten our age difference and why it had ever bothered me. And who gave a damn I was big and him slender? Now I’m getting to know him, if he finds my curves sexy, I’m certainly not going to argue. I’m not trying to hide so he’ll know what to expect when he eventually ends up in my bed.

My bed. Where I’m currently lying. Alone.

True to his word, Skull had dropped me home, not wanting to come in. He couldn’t trust me to keep my hands to myself, he’d said, while wearing a big wide grin and winking.

Tomorrow night he’s providing security for one of their contracts, but on Sunday he’s going to take me out again.

I can’t freaking wait.

---