Page 127 of XOXO

That low-down, dirty bitch. She did this shit on purpose. Fuckety fuck. He is supposed to be a troll, a popped belly, mole having a troll. Anytime I saw Dekker at the clubhouse, it was from afar, never close enough to see the damn dimples. Or those damn eyes, nope, never, not once. If I had, if I did, I wouldn’t be here staring at the wall in my entryway, trying to figure out how I’m going to stop myself from jumping his ass like a tree.

Men are assholes.

All men.

All the time.

Men are assholes. Dekker is an asshole. He and his dimples, big giant assholes.

I slowly nod to myself, convincing my libido, the whore, that Dekker is like every other man. He is an asshole.

Chapter Four

DEKKER

“I’m an asshole.”

My attention turns back to the door, and the beast that stands between me and getting this damn date started. I’ve heard stories about Dalia’s beast. So it did not surprise me to see him, just surprised at how big the damn thing is. His intelligent eyes watch every step I take. Am I having a fucking stare-off with a dog? Yes, the fuck I am. Will I let the giant beast that looks like he can eat me for dinner intimidate me? No, the fuck I’m not.

My eyes trail past him, and connect with his owner. The amusement in her eyes is clear. I also see a challenge, and I chuckle to myself because even if I don’t want to be here, I’m no fucking pussy. I smirk at her, but keep an eye on her beast. Ain’t no fucking way I’ll be intimidated by a dog. So you damn right. I stride past them into the house. It took a little maneuvering, but just like she was making a point, so was I.

Once I crossed the threshold, making sure not to touch her as I squeezed between her, the dog, and the door. I stride wordlessly into her living room and sit my big ass on her couch. Of course, I make a show of it and spread my arms and legs wide.

Fuck, I’m still hard as hell.

I look around the room. Her place is nice. Not that I thought it would have her crazy out on display. But even so, I figured it would not be as girly as it is. My attention, although peeked, doesn’t stray from them for long. I smirk when she mutters something before taking off down a hallway. The beast doesn’t follow her. No, he strolls into the living room, his eyes on me. He stops in front of me, and I watch him because I may not let her see me be intimidated, but I’m not dumb. Dogs can be unpredictable on the best day, and new people in their space means they will test you.

Slowly, I take one of my arms from the back of the couch and rest it open, palm up on my thigh. His head tilts like he is trying to tell me something, and after a few seconds, he steps closer and sniffs me. It doesn’t take long for him to take in my scent; when he does, his eyes return to mine. And then the damn thing jumps up on the couch and plops his ass next to me and rests his colossal head on my lap. I chuckle, knowing that I’ve won him over. A few minutes later, that’s how she finds us. Me sitting on her couch, rubbing her beast's head as he snores like it’s an Olympic sport.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

My head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and my eyes connect with the gorgeous yet annoyed ones. Her eyes aren’t on me, but on the beast I’m petting in my lap. I can’t help but smirk as I watch the annoyance filter through her eyes while ignoring how my body reacts at the sight of her. I don’t miss how her eyes are narrowed. This was not how she saw things going. She says something that has the dog lazily rising from his spot, giving my hand a very wet lick, and walking toward her. They both disappear down the hall with a huff, a few muttered words from her, and a lazy stretch from him. I stand and head to the door. I hear her before I see her.

“Let's go.” She snips as she stomps past me.

She walks down another hallway opposite the one she had left through before. I can’t hold my chuckle as she opens a door that leads to her garage. She presses a button on the wall. I don’t realize what she’s doing, but I watch her. Dalia is making it clear she’s as excited about this date as I am. Besides calling me out when I was sitting on my bike, she hasn’t spoken directly to me other than to snipe at me. I may not have wanted to do this, but her annoyance is amusing. I plan to use it because she has no plans to take it easy on me. That is clear when she gets to her Harley Sportster 883. With mischief in her eyes and a smirk on her lips, she saddles her ride, looking back at me and starting it up. She reeves the engine a few times as I watch her.

“The door.'' She points to the garage door. “Will close when I leave, so you might wanna…” She makes a shooing motion. With a shake of my head, I walk out of the garage, not looking back at her, making my way to my bike. Once I throw my leg over my girl and start her up. Before I look back to see where she is, she flies past me, giving me a two-finger salute.

I guess I’ll meet her there.

DALIA

“He wasn’t supposed to look like that.”

Was I being a bitch when I left him to fend for himself with Titus? Maybe. Am I being a bitch for refusing to get on the big sexy brutes bike? Yes, yes, I am. There is no way in hell I’d be able to keep my shit together being so close to him. I want to fuck him and chuck him. And that can’t happen. I’ve never crossed that line regarding men in LSMC, and I won’t start now.

I know what they think of me. I’m not my sister. I’m wildly opinionated and not one to stand behind my man, but next to him. And bikers are alpha males through and through. As great as the guys are, I’ll never be the kind of woman to be left in the dark. I’ve seen and heard about the shit that has gone down in some of their personal lives. As much as Dani says, not all club brothers. Cheating and withholding shit is not something I can handle. I also know that if shit went wrong, it would put my soft-hearted sister in a shitty situation, and that’s not my thing. Danika has been through enough because of our family. She has her happily ever after. I’m not about to fuck that up for her, no matter how much I want to jump the man like a damn tree.

Chapter Five

DEKKER

“She is Veronica.”

Pulling into the restaurant's parking lot, my eyes automatically find her without effort. The woman is hard to miss. She stands leaning against her bike, and once again, my dick goes hard. Fuck. So much for the ride, allowing me to get my shit together; one fucking look at her, and I’m back to square one. My head is fucked, the twenty-minute ride allowed me to get my dick under control, but it also gave me time to think. And thinking right now is a bad fucking idea. I can’t let this attraction turn into anything else. I told myself when I left Vegas that I would not jump from one fire to another, and I’m sticking to that. I still have shit hanging over my head. Veronica is still on her shit, and until I know for sure she is out of my life, I’m staying single. The problem is that my resolve wavers the second my eyes trailed from Dalia’s denim-clad legs to her nearly makeup-free face. Damn it. I groan, knowing there is fuck all I can do about my body's reaction to her. And nothing that flashes through my mind calms my dick. Not a damn thing.

Pulling up next to her. Dalia watches me with a mischievous smile on her face. Her eyes glitter with amusement, and damn if she isn’t the most beautiful woman I’ve ever set my eyes on. Her curly, wild hair is windblown from the ride, and my fingers twitch with the need to run my hands through it, which causes me to shake my head. Parking my bike, she continues to watch me. I smirk, knowing she’s playing games. I’m cool with that. The little spitfire is used to running all over the guys she’s with. That much is obvious. We are both here because of the people in our lives, so I plan to make the best of it but also make it clear that this is it. There is nothing after tonight.

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