Hooked (Viking Bastards MC #1)(30)
“So how many tattoos do you have?” Grace asks my sister, who’s perched on the arm of Cade’s chair.
“Five.”
I frown. “Thought you only had three.”
“You don’t know everything about me, Zach.”
I transfer my frown to Cade, who appears to find nothing wrong with this conversation. “You give her all five?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, of course he did.” Kat sounds irritated. “And why would he tell you every time I get one done? I don’t need you to hold my hand the way you did for Grace.”
That’s not the issue, and she damn well knows it. “Where’re the extra two tats?”
“On my ass.”
Cade chokes on his beer. “They’re not on her ass.”
Grace snorts with laughter. “I nearly had my iris done on my ass.”
That manages to distract me from the fact Cade failed to let me know when my sister commissioned two more tats from him, and I give Grace a disbelieving grin.
“Why the hell would you want a flower on your ass?” Although the more I think about it, the better I like it.
“So no one would see it. But I like this way better.” She admires her wrist again.
I’m still thinking about her butt. “You could have a rosebud on one cheek and…” Fuck, I don’t know anything about flowers. “A poppy on the other.”
She gives me a scandalized look while Kat makes gagging noises.
“Are you serious?” Grace sounds as though she’s trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a month.”
I’m getting hard just thinking about it. “You’d look real hot with a couple of butt tats in those sexy thongs you wear.”
“Cade, get me out of here.” Kat gives a dramatic shudder, although she also shoots Grace a smile, and Cade pushes himself out of the chair without a word.
After they leave the room I haul Grace on top of me. “Thought they’d never go.”
…
Grace
I oversleep in the morning, which is hardly surprising considering Zach and I spent most of the night having sex. My shower is super fast, and it’s a relief when he doesn’t wake up and join me. Not that I don’t want him to, but I’m already late leaving for work.
I smile dreamily at my reflection in the en suite as I finish putting on my makeup. It was a last minute decision to call him yesterday and see if it was okay for me to stop by. I’m not even sure what made me do it, except for the fact I wanted to see him.
Is this really a friends-with-benefits thing? I haven’t hooked up with any other guy, but we haven’t talked about being exclusive. I’m not stupid, and I know it’s likely he’s seeing other women, especially given the MC lifestyle, which my sister has very kindly ensured I learned about during the last few weeks.
I can’t say I’m thrilled about the things she told me, but just because some clubs have resident groupies doesn’t mean Zach’s club does. Not that I’d know first hand, though, since he’s never invited me there.
This is just a wild fling. I keep forgetting that, because I can’t get him out of my mind and when we’re together things are so great it’s hard to remember we’ve barely known each other a month yet.
He’s the reason why I didn’t request a transfer from L.A. Sure, I know I told him I was going to resign and set up my own business, but this is real life, not some fantasy where everyone can do exactly what they want. I think Mom and Dad were half expecting me to want to relocate. But moving to another city, maybe even another country, isn’t something I want to do right now. I’d much rather risk crossing paths with Russell at work than end this thing with Zach.
When I go back into the bedroom he’s sitting up in bed with his hands clasped behind his head. His sexy grin makes me want to forget about work and crawl all over him. How did I ever think he was an arrogant *?
“Come here.”
I know exactly what will happen if I do. “I can’t. I need to leave now, not in an hour’s time.”
His grin turns lethal. “Maybe you should call in sick.”
It’s tempting. “At least it’s Friday. We can have the whole weekend together.”
“Yeah. Leave your gear here and come back tonight. You can stay over until Monday.”
The only other time I’ve stayed three nights in a row was the weekend we met. I’m about to agree, when an idea stops me.
“Why don’t you stay at my apartment this weekend?”
He stares at me as though I’ve just said something incomprehensible. “In Malibu?”
“It’d be different. We could go to a club, if you like. You could meet my sister.” I want them to meet, so Charity can see Zach isn’t anything like the jerk she seems to think he is simply because he belongs to an MC.
There’s more to it than that, though. If he agrees, it’s like he’s tacitly accepting what we have together has evolved from a casual hookup into, well, something deeper. And if the press finds out about us, which is likely once we’re seen in public, it won’t matter to Dad’s precious reputation because Zach and I are together now.
“Why would I want to meet your sister?”
For a moment I think he’s joking, then I realize not only is he serious, but he isn’t trying to be deliberately rude. He genuinely has no interest in meeting her.