Page 15 of 23 Hours

“You mean, while he’s still in lock up?” Her spine straightens and that sass I remember outside comes back in defensive form.

Not wanting to rile her up by pushing too hard, I play it subtle. “Yeah.” I shrug a shoulder. “It might be easier through glass the first time.”

“For him or you?” She’s wary, and my respect grows another inch for the woman I barely know.

“Both?” I hedge, and back down the moment Kit’s eyes start to glaze over in deeper thought—the kind chicks get when they’re playing a thousand scenarios in their head, most of which are over the top and illogical. To nip this in the bud before she reaches the point of no return—with notions of me kidnapping her son and forcing him to be a Sacred Sinner, which will turn him into a killing machine—all untrue, in case you were headed down the same path, I jump in to bypass this inherent female process. “Hey, if that’s not what you want, I’ll follow your lead. You’re his mom. I’m… just me.” I take another sip of my drink, reading Kit’s body language.

She tucks a stray hair behind her ear, blinks to clear her overprotective thoughts, nods once, then looks at me straight on. “No. No. I’m just a little shell-shocked by all this. You’re taking this better than I expected.”

She’s gorgeous, isn’t she? And smart… and mature. Is it bad I can’t stop staring? Observing? Wanting to know more?

I smirk. “How did you expect me to take it?”

“Badly. Name calling. Disowning him. Bad. But you’ve been very mature about it all. I’m still processing that part. It kinda feels like a dream.”

My heart thuds in an unfamiliar way and I disregard the feeling. “I’m not a twenty-year-old kid, Kit, who just found out he knocked up his one-night stand. I’m an old man—”

“Who just found out he knocked up a less-than-one-day stand, over twenty years ago,” she cuts in.

I nod in agreement, my smirk twisting into a full, tooth-filled smile. “We did have sex. A lot of it if I recall. All over the place.” In the bar more than once, the alley, the…hmmm… I know there’s more.

Kit chuckles, her posture relaxing. “So now you remember?”

“Some. What do you remember?” I finish my glass and set it on the desk for later.

“Everything, or almost everything.”

All right then. Not what I expected to hear. “How’s that possible? You were drunk off your tiny, little ass.”

She chuckles, light and sweet. My dick takes notice of the sound and the way he likes it, a lot. “Drunk, yes. Too drunk to remember, no.”

Again, I step to the side and give her space to sit down. I don’t like her standing here talking. Not when I have so much more I wish to discuss. Sure, it’s late, but I haven’t wanted to talk to someone like this in… ever. It’s different from when I shoot the shit with the guys or chat with Bink about her life or the insignificant things Janie talks about. Even Beth, another woman I’m friends with, we don’t do this. Apart from my brother, Kit’s the only person I have an outside connection with—beyond the Sacred Sinners and all that surrounds my world here. Don’t get me wrong, I love the MC life. Wouldn’t trade it for anything. But I’ve never had any piece of my world that wasn’t about the lifestyle. Growing up, my dad was a Sacred Sinner, and my mom was a former club whore turned old lady. What a shit pairing that was. Kit’s presence is an unexpected breath of fresh air.

“Please sit.” I do the gentleman thing and twist the chair to make it clear this is where I want her. Chivalry isn’t dead in my book.

This time, she acquiesces, and I move some paperwork out of the way to prop my ass on the edge of the desk, close enough to Kit, I can see the flecks of gold in her eyes, but far enough, I don’t invade her personal space. There’s a delicate balance here I don’t wanna fuck up. Not when I’ve got peace and quiet in a place nobody will bother us in unless they wanna visit the shed.

“Thanks.” Kit smooths the tips of her fingers over the curved chair arms. I watch in rapt fascination as does my cock which twitches but doesn’t thicken.

Keeping my need in check, I help the conversation flow. “Anytime. So, you gonna tell me what you remember?”

“We had sex a dozen times, I’m sure of it.” Humor dances in those fine eyes.

“No way,” I counter. “Even then, my dick couldn’t handle that.” I’d have blisters from that much fucking. If you don’t have a dick, you don’t understand what happens when you go that many rounds. Not only do you shoot blanks after the first few—as in no cum—you also get sore. Doesn’t matter if you’re a porn star or not, we’re only equipped to come so much. A chafed dick isn’t a happy dick.

Charmed by my brashness, she grins, and her cheeks twitch as if holding back a laugh. “Well, maybe you didn’t have sex with me, but we had a form of sex.”

Ahh… that makes more sense.

A blurry, fragmented memory bubbles to the surface of a Harley and a sexy woman with her legs draped over my shoulders. “I ate you out on the back of my bike.”

Cheeks suffusing with my new favorite shade of pink, she nods once. “You did.”

“And you loved it.”

Not the least bit shy, Kit adds, “I did. It was my first orgasm.”

“Ever?” I choke, then clear my throat so I don’t sound like a fuckin’ tool.

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