I rolled my eyes.

When I rolled them back he wasn’t grinning. He was smiling.

“You, it’s about bedroom eyes. Fuckin’ great hair. Long legs. A tight, sweet pu**y that gets so f**kin’ wet, swear to Christ, every time I have it, don’t know whether to bury my face or my dick in it. Your perfume on my sheets. The way you look at me when I tuck you in bed, like I gave you diamonds, something precious, something you wanna keep safe, something you want forever. Woman like you could get diamonds just crookin’ her finger, so a woman like you shouldn’t find a man tuckin’ you in bed precious. But you do. It’s also about you tellin’ me you won’t take it there with me but, I kiss you, you ignite. Some men like a game. Others like a challenge.” His smile got wider. “You found a man who likes a challenge.”

“Great,” I muttered and his grin didn’t waver.

He also wasn’t done.

“It’s also about you tellin’ me you miss me and, lady,” he said swiftly when I opened my mouth to speak, “don’t deny it. You said it. You meant it. You’ll learn you can’t bullshit me, but, I’ll just say in case it sinks in early, you can’t bullshit me. All that might not be enough for another brother, but babe,” he gave a light shrug, “it’s enough for me.”

“That’s insane,” I told him.

“Lanie, I’m a member of a motorcycle club. Used to people out there in the other world thinkin’ I got a screw loose. Also don’t give a shit they think that way.”

He gave it to me, my opening, so I jumped on it. “So you don’t give a shit I think that way?”

He grinned again. “Honestly? No. Not now. You aren’t thinkin’ straight so you think that way with your head as messed up as it is?” He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit you think that way.”

“My head isn’t messed up,” I announced and his grin got bigger and, that close, in the morning, sexier.

Gah!

“Babe.”

That was all he said.

Time to move on.

“It’s my understanding that old ladies hold a slightly elevated role in your world. Not that high, since your structure includes the brotherhood up top, bikes under that, living and riding free under that and, possibly, old ladies, if one was lucky, under that,” I stated. “Women in your world have to work to that position, something I haven’t done nor do I intend to do. You and I are f**k buddies. Or we were.”

His brows went up. “Were?”

“This ends this morning,” I declared to which, immediately, he threw his handsome, stubble-jawed head back and burst out laughing so hard it shook me and the bed.

“Do you find something amusing?” I asked irately through his laughter.

Also through his laughter he focused on me and spoke. “Yeah, honey. The clue is me laughing.”

I glared and decided I was done with our talk. Therefore I lifted my hands to his shoulders and shoved.

This had no effect except that he dropped his head, buried his face in my neck and kept laughing there.

I glared at the ceiling, trying not to process how nice that felt.

His hilarity muted to chuckling so I decided it was time to speak again.

“Get off me, Hopper. I’m getting a taxi to my car and going home.”

He lifted his head, smiled down at me, then shook that head. “No you aren’t. We’re gonna talk, get things straight, then we’re gonna f**k, then I’m taking you out for breakfast.”

“Those may be your plans for this morning but they aren’t mine.”

“They’re yours.”

I didn’t say anything mostly because the back and forth of me saying something and Hop disagreeing was both frustrating and irritating and I wasn’t doing it again.

The problem with that was, unable to contradict him, I couldn’t do what I wanted to do since I also couldn’t shift him off me.

“Hopper, get off,” I ordered.

“No.”

“Off.”

“Babe, no.”

There we were again, the back and forth.

Frustrating and annoying.

I shoved hard at his shoulders and grunted, “Off!”

He pressed into me, his face got close and I stilled because suddenly he looked serious.

“You’re Cherry’s so you’ve been let in, babe, but do not think for one f**kin’ second observing the Club lets you in the know about what goes on in a brother’s head, his home or his bed. Any of us,” he started.

The way he said this made me hold my breath.

“That said,” he went on, “that shit you spouted about what you understand about a brother’s woman is more proof your head is totally f**ked up, because part of that is selective and the rest of it is twisted and you know it.”

I hated to admit it but he had a point.

He went on to force his point home.

“You cannot lie under me after watching Tack with Cherry for eight goddamned years and tell me his brothers, his bike, and livin’ free means more to him than his wife and, I’ll add, his f**kin’ kids. That, you know completely, you witness it, you feel it. That’s your girl. You know what she’s got. Seen you cacklin’ with Sheila, who’s sweet as sugar, but that don’t mean she’d take shit from any man. She gets it good from Dog, you know it, so you know that bullshit that came outta your mouth doesn’t hold true with Dog, either. Seen you also sit close with Brick, seein’ to him when one of his bitches cuts him, so you know he’s got shit taste, but when he lets them in, he opens up so they can dig deep.”

All of this was true too.

Very true.

Hop continued, “Other Clubs might be about the brothers, the bikes, the carousing. You look at our leader, you know exactly what this Club is about. So do not lie there and tell me you know differently.”

Obviously, I’d struck a nerve and, unfortunately, he was right, I was wrong, very wrong, and worse, I felt terrible about it.

So terrible, I couldn’t let it stand. It was only fair that I admit I was wrong.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he replied.

“Well, I’m sorry I said that since you’re right. I know it’s not true,” I told him. “Not with Chaos.”