Fire Inside (Chaos #2)(45)

“That sounds awful, Hop,” I whispered.

“It wasn’t a f**kuva lot of fun, Lanie.” He did not whisper.

I licked my lower lip and gave it time before I told him honestly and quietly, “You know, people talk.”

He held my eyes. “I know.”

“They don’t talk much,” I shared.

“I know that, too.”

“But they said it was ugly.”

He drew in breath then stated, “Yeah, it was and what this is, over sandwiches in your office, is not even half of it. I’ll tell you because you’re with me, you gotta know. But I’ll say, lady, I’ll tell you when the time is right for you and this is not it. I’m not keepin’ shit from you. But things you gotta know for the now, my kids are good. I’d rather their lives be steadier but I went back to her more than once to give them that and got nothin’ but a rough ride when I did. They didn’t need to see their dad go through that. But in the end, she f**ked me, babe. It was not pretty and you do not f**k me. You can be a bitch. You can bust my balls. I’m not gonna lie down for it, but there’s a lot a man will do for his children. But never, ever f**k me. She f**ked me. We cope by limiting our time in each other’s space to near to nothing. It works. For you, that’s the end for now.”

When he stopped speaking, I held his eyes.

Then, hesitantly, I asked, “Are you… looking for soft spots with me?”

It was then he held my eyes for one beat… two… three.

Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.

I felt my eyes narrow.

“Hop,” I called.

He kept laughing, his head now bowed, hand up, waving at me to give him a moment.

Yes. Apparently what I’d asked was that funny.

“Hop!” I snapped. His head came up and his eyes caught mine. “I was actually being serious,” I informed him.

“I know,” he choked out.

“Stop laughing!” I clipped, short and angry, and he abruptly stopped.

Just as abruptly, he pushed out of his chair and rounded my desk, and before I knew what he was doing he was bent into me, hands on either side of my head, his face all I could see.

“You put yourself in front of bullets for your fiancé,” he whispered and my breath stopped. “Baby, you don’t have any hard spots.”

“I—”

His hands on my head pressed in gently just as his forehead came to rest on mine.

“You don’t, and just so you know, that is not why I’m with you or why I want you, the fact that you’re the kind of woman who did that for him. What you did was beautiful, the ultimate, but it’s who you are that interests me.”

He had to stop.

“Hop, you need to take your hands off me and step back.”

“Worried what your staff will think?”

“I don’t care what they think,” I retorted. “But you’re being sweet again, saying nice things again and getting to me, and I need a break and I want to finish my sandwich.”

“I’m getting to you?”

“Step back.”

His eyes held mine a moment before he muttered, “I’m getting to you.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Babe,” he called.

I rolled my eyes back.

“Wanna know part of who you are that interests me?”

“Are you going to say something nice?”

“Yes.”

“Then no.”

I watched his eyes smile.

Then he started to speak and, per usual, he did it against my wishes.

“Part of who you are that interests me is that you don’t care what they think. I walk into your cush offices, you say ‘hey, honey’ and don’t even f**kin’ blink. Wearin’ motorcycle boots or a suit, it’s all the same to you. And a woman like you, so knockout gorgeous, most movie stars would give their left nut just for you to walk up a red carpet on their arm, a banker’s daughter who sleeps in unbelievably soft sheets and drives a sweet ride ninety-nine percent of the population can’t afford acts like that. Now that interests me.”

Okay, I was back to him getting to me.

“I’ve decided to be un-biker-friendly,” I announced, and watched his eyes smile again.

“Too late.”

“Figures,” I mumbled.

“Right. I’m here, kiss me, we’ll finish our sandwiches and then I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Hop, I’ve got pastrami breath.”

“So?”

“It might be gross.”

Another smile. “It won’t be gross.”

“It’ll be gross.”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Kiss me.”

“No!”

Hop slanted his head and kissed me.

I kissed him back.

He let me go, we finished our sandwiches and he kissed me again before he let me get back to work.

I got looks all afternoon and I didn’t care because I wouldn’t normally care, but also because all I could think about was Hop getting to me.

And that I sort of wanted him to bring me lunch the next day.

And that I not so sort of wished he’d be in my bed that night.