Reign (Sin City Outlaws #1)(61)

“Wow.” I shake my head, not sure what to say about his brother. I can see the hurt and abandonment in his eyes. Sure, he’s rough around the edges and goes about shit the wrong way, but he’s like that bully you can’t help but feel sorry for. You know he had it rough, and is acting out the best way he knows how. I palm his cheek affectionately, the scruff abrasive against my soft skin.

Pulling his face from my hands, he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” He looks down, his head hanging. I suck in a deep breath, trying to think of my next question as I sit down beside him. He says he’s terrible at relationships, but has he ever loved a woman? I asked him once, and he never answered me. The thought makes me jealous.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“No.” He doesn’t lift his head, doesn’t even look at me.

“No?”

“I had one serious relationship, but it ended before it ever got to that point. Not that I think it ever would have. She was a bitch.” He raises his head, his eyes finally meeting mine. They hold a sense of pain.

“What happened?”

He smirks. “That’s three questions. My turn.”

My heart sinks. I didn’t know he got to ask questions, too.

“Tell me about your parents.” Oh, God! “Were they great? Did you… read books together on Christmas Eve? Were you that picture-perfect family you see on TV?”

Tucking my feet under me, I let out a shallow breath.

“Not really. My father was always working, and my mother was always out trying to help those who were less fortunate. I stayed home and watched Christmas movies. Every day was pretty much similar to that. My father works for the sheriff’s department, but he’s retiring. My mother is one of those women who exercises her rights every chance she gets. She’s always protesting, or something. They were good parents, but very protective. Sometimes, I feel like I lived such a sheltered life, that I never really lived till I met you.”

The corner of his mouth curves into a smirk, and his large palm squeezes my thigh affectionately.

“Okay, you get one more question.”

His face goes serious, his brows pinched together in thought. “Be mine.” His face raises, those dark eyes hard.

My smirk fades, my heart pounding. His? Like an old woman, old lady—whatever they call them in the club?

“Yours how? Like, your girlfriend? Old lady? Wife?” My voice is frantic, and I’m rambling.

He squints. “Just mine.”

“You don’t think this is too fast?” I start trying to count how long we’ve been together. Has it been days? Weeks?

He turns, grabbing my waist and lifting me to where I’m straddling him.

“I’ve lived fast my whole life, Rookie. This is anything but fast. I cooked you breakfast this morning, and I don’t cook anyone breakfast.”

A giggle escapes me. “Was that your courting?” He nods, a big, toothy grin crossing his face. “I thought so.”

My hands rub the scruff on his cheek, the scar on his chin shining against the light.

“What happened here?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I’m pretty sure your questions are up.”

I scowl. “I could guess.”

“You could.”

“Hmm. Did you sleep with another member’s mom?” His eyes narrow, conveying he didn’t.

“Did you… hustle a game of pool and get stabbed in the chin with the cue?” He laughs, so I know that’s not it. At this point, I’m really just pulling stuff from the air.

“Okay, you’re making the real reason behind the scar look small. I got cut in a fight.”

“Really, you couldn’t tell me that?”

His hands slide up and down my sides. “I think I’ll just tell everyone I got impaled by a cue stick. Sounds badass, right?”

His gaze rolls across my chest hungrily, his fingers touching every inch of bare skin on my hips and stomach. A familiar warmth builds in my limbs, my body awakening with his rough touch.

“You got a third question, so I get one.”

I frown, curious what he wants to know. “Okay…”

“You said you were with one other guy.” My face pales, my palms sweaty. “Did you love him?”

I swallow, really rethinking this whole question thing.

“Not at all. In fact, he was an *. He took me in the back of his squad car, and he was anything but a gentleman.”

“Did he make you come?” My eyes snap to his with surprise. His brows are in a hard line, his jaw tight. “The way you react when you fall apart at my fingertips, it’s as if you’ve never had an orgasm. Your body is so out of control, so natural.”

My cheeks flush.

“You’re the only one I’ve had an orgasm with. Any orgasm at all, actually.”

“So, the first time you ever came was on my fingers on the side of the road?” He smiles, the memory flashing across his eyes.

“Yeah,” I reply shyly.

“I need inside of you now.” He grips my thighs, standing with me in his arms.

“They say the best part about fighting is the make-up sex,” I state, my words coming out all breathy. “We should fight more often.”