Page 19 of Eros
I’m definitely having some type of Stockholm Syndrome.
“Oh okay,” I said, glad that I understand a little more of his lifestyle even though I shouldn’t care. “But that’s not why I asked. I just wondered where Ambrose’s mother is.”
He shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said like he couldn’t care less where or what happened to the mother of his child. “To make a long story short before you ask, we weren’t together. It was a few nights of sex, drugs, and alcohol along with a broken condom. She brought him to me two years ago when she decided motherhood wasn’t her thing.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He sighed. “Everyone isn’t cut out to be a mother, Janea. Just like everyone isn’t cut out to be a father.” He gave me a pointed look, causing me to roll my eyes. This conversation wasn’t about my father, but about his child’s mother. “And Ambrose’s mother is one of those women, just like your father is one of those men. She’s a cunt, but I would never regret having him. Just like you father’s a motherfucker, but I don’t doubt for one minute you mother regretted the relationship she had with you.”
“It must be hard for you?” I asked, ignoring the emotions clogging my throat. “He’s got a lot of energy. I know he’s a handful.”
He shrugged again. “It is what it is. But he’s mine. And like I said, I wouldn’t change that for the world, no matter how much of a cunt his mother is.”
He rose from the bed, and I couldn’t help but admire the way his jeans hugged his thighs or the way his t-shirt stretched across his chest. The confidence in his movements was very attractive, and it was starting to get too hard to look away anytime he was around.
“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have you swallowing my dick,” he said, his voice huskier than before.
Damn it! He caught me looking.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you don’t.” He chuckled, adjusting himself in his jeans. “Anyway, me and Ambrose are crashing here with you tonight. It’s not safe to go home. You take the bed with him, and I’ll take the floor. And tomorrow, we need to have a talk.”
“What kind of talk?” I asked already knowing that it had something to do with what I know. At this point, I should just tell him. I didn’t know if I was protecting myself or my father.
“You owe me answers.”
I nodded. “I know. I promise I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. I need something to sleep in.”
Even though the clubhouse was far from ideal, right now I believe it was the safest place for me to be. And I knew in order to stay safe, I had to get it all out. Eros was my saving grace. He’d know what to do with this information.
He walked to the small dresser situated on the wall across from the queen-size bed, next to the bathroom door. He pulled open the top drawer, pulled some clothes from inside before closing it. When he faced me, he held up a pair of black briefs and a black t-shirt.
“This will have to do,” he said.
I slowly got off the bed so I wouldn’t wake Ambrose, then walked to him.
“Everything you need is in the small cabinet just through that door,” he said. “Save me some hot water unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless you want to conserve, then we can take a shower together.”
I snatched the clothes from his hand, then stepped inside the bathroom. “In your dreams, Niko.”
The heart-stopping smile blanketing his face caused flutters to erupt inside my stomach.
“Niko, huh?” His grin widened. “I like it, but I’d love it even more when you’re screaming it.”
“You’ll have to work a lot harder than that to fuck me, Niko. I just don’t spread my legs for anyone.”
He stepped closer to me, invading my space. Leather, patchouli, and incense filled my nose. “You’ll spread them for me.” He ran his calloused fingertips against my cheek. I fought against the urge to lean into his touch. “And much sooner than you think.”
“Don’t count on it.”
I closed the door in his face, but I didn’t lock it when I should have.
His laughter filtered through the door, and I couldn’t stop the smile from crossing my face. I braced my palms against the vanity and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I’d never met anyone like him, and it would be hard to keep my wits about me around him.
