Page 19 of Filthy Liar

But instead of arguing with them, I climb into the back of the SUV. As soon as we’re all loaded up, the women start chatteringwith each other. They are friends. They love one another, and you can almost feel that love filling the car.

It’s beautiful.

These women are beautiful inside and out.

I couldn’t imagine having friends like them in my life for real. I’ve never had people like this before. I’ve never had women beside me. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend this is real. That they give a shit about me, that they are my friends, or at least friends to be made and kept.

It’s a fantasy. I know it is because it can never be a reality. But it’s a fantasy that I allow myself, just for tonight.

We pull into the clubhouse parking lot. The SUV is parked behind a line of motorcycles. I don’t know what to do or say, so I decide to stay quiet. I do what I do best and melt into the background.

Climbing out of the car behind the women, I follow them into the bar. There is loud music swirling around me, but it doesn’t bother me. In fact, I quite like it. There is so much action in the place that I know I can get lost—easily.

So, I decide that’s exactly what I’ll do—get lost.

Until that perfect specimen of a man is standing in front of me. Slowly, I tilt my head backward until my eyes meet his. Pressing my thighs together, I wonder if I can even stand in front of him for more than a moment before my knees give out.

He reaches out, touching his finger to the center of my chin. I can’t even breathe, he’s so damn beautiful. I’ve never been around a man so sexy before, and I’ve been around some handsome men.

“You came.” His voice, while being rough and rugged, is also as smooth and thick as honey.

“Yeah,” I exhale.

CLINK

The music surrounds us,but I can’t hear a single fucking thing. Not over the sound of my heart pumping in my chest, the blood roaring throughout my entire being, and then there are her fucking eyes.

They own me.

“You want a drink?” I ask.

It’s a lot fucking easier when I am sneaking into her room and fucking her until she screams. That shit is easy. This is harder. This reminds me of the fact that I indeed spent three years in prison, and before that, I didn’t date.

I don’t know how to do that shit.

I want her to want me the way the other old ladies want my brothers. I just don’t know how they’ve done that. I want to make this shit work without telling her that I fucking own her. I want this to work without her ever knowing that.

“Sure,” she signs.

Instead of turning my back to her and walking toward the bar, I do something I never thought I would ever do… in a million goddamn years. I reach for her hand, lacing my fingers with hers, and walk toward the bar. Then through the whole clubhouse, although most of the guys are focused on their own shit, not on us. However, I know there will be some people who will be watching us.

They can watch away.

This is exactly what the fuck I want. My woman on my arm, my club at my back. This is fucking perfect. I couldn’t imagine a better life than this shit. It’s everything I dreamed about in prison. I never imagined it could be possible, but here it fucking is, and here we fucking are.

Placing my hand on the small of her back, I turn to her, touching my lips to the side of the shell of her ear. “What do you want, baby?” I ask.

I hear her breath hitch, and I can’t help but wonder if she recognizes me yet. Even if she doesn’t right now, I am sure that she will when I touch her, when I kiss her, when I slide inside of her and stretch her body, when I feel every inch of her.

Because I will be feeling every fucking inch of her tonight.

Every goddamn inch.

Looking at her, I watch her profile as her eyes search the contents of the bar. I almost laugh, knowing there’s absolutely nothing girlie here. She turns her head, her eyes finding mine.

I press my lips together, trying not to laugh.

She’s so goddamn cute, and seeing her this close in the light is so fucking surreal.

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