Page 37 of Ox

My heart constricted with hope at his words. Forcing myself to push forward, I added, “Would you like to be?”

Ox’s eyes were fixed on me when he said, “I’m not going to lie to you, Kayla. Club life is hard on men, but it’s harder on women. Most can’t handle what it means to be with a biker. It’s usually more than they bargained for.”

This time my heart constricted with pain, not hope. “What do you mean?”

“Sure, this life can be flashy and sexy. But it can also be dangerous, unpredictable, and intense. Women think they love a man enough to overlook those things. But long term? Most can’t.” His body remained relaxed, but I could tell he was closely inspecting my reaction to his honesty.

“I get that,” I returned, not sure what else to say and feeling open and raw in ways I’d never felt before.

“Do you?” he pressed, not giving me an inch. “Have you thought about what it would be like to introduce someone like me to your family? Friends? Colleagues? People don’t exactlyhave high opinions of bikers, Babe. Your parents are teachers, right?”

I nodded and a shiver ran through me then. “Yeah.”

“Well, how are they going to feel about Daddy’s little angel coming home with the devil?” he asked then.

I shrugged, not knowing how to respond. “It’s not their choice.”

“No, it’s not. But you are their daughter, and whether you want to admit it or not, their opinion matters to you. And, if they raised you right, it should.”

His point was a valid one, though I couldn’t just ignore how I felt about the man because my parents wouldn’t approve. Hell, they’d disapproved of nearly everyone I’d ever dated! And I told Ox as much.

He folded his hands onto his lap. “You think them not liking your tenth grade, pimple-faced, horny boyfriend is going to compare to you bringing home a one-percenter, Babe?”

When he put it like that, it was hard to argue. “Given time, they’ll adjust if they want to be in my life,” I lied, knowing they’d outright hate the idea and never warm to it.

Ox snorted. “Not when they see me. The way I look at you. When they see in my eyes all the dirty little things I want to do to you, Kayla.” His expression could have set me on fire it was so fucking hot. “God, Woman, you don’t even have a clue what it would be like between us. The things I’d show you.”

If he was trying to talk me out of the situation, he needed to stop saying these sexy as hell things. Because, right about now, I was thinking with something less productive than my brain. And that bitch between my thighs was fairly panting at his dark, lusty promises.

My chest began to unsteadily rise and fall and my eyes become hooded. When Ox stood, I thought he was coming overto ravish me. A fate I’d be more than willing to accept. However, he walked over to the grill to check on the steaks instead.

Blinking back the lust coursing through me, I stood shakily and said, “I need to go check on dessert,” and scrambled ungracefully back into the house to do a fictitious task and put some much needed distance between us before I spontaneously combusted right there on the deck.

Running to the bathroom, I rinsed my face to cool my burning cheeks. When I came back out, Ox was outside flipping the steaks and reading something intently off his phone. I decided to clean the dishes in the sink as I kept an eye on the pie to give him his privacy, as well as mull over everything he’d said earlier.

When the timer on my phone went off, reminding me to take out the pie, I reached into the oven and extracted the aromatic treat excitedly. I loved this dessert, though I rarely made it because, well, I couldn’t eat a whole pie by myself. Well, I could, but I’d regret it in the morning!

After setting the pie on the counter, I retrieved the potatoes behind it and Ox poked his head into the house. “The steaks are ready whenever you are,” he called out, like he hadn’t just said the most sexually explicit thing I’d ever heard in my life just minutes before.

Reaching into the fridge, I took out the salad. Loading that and our potatoes onto a tray, I walked back toward the sliding glass door and Ox opened it for me.

“Looks good,” he said with a husky tone that didn’t match up to the food I was carrying. “I can’t wait to eat every bite.”

Swallowing hard, my gaze lowered to the deck as I set everything on the table. Ox handed me a plate with an enormous steak on it and I laughed, breaking up some of the tension in the air.

“This is too much! I can’t eat all of this,” I declared, as I eyed the inch and a half thick slab of beef in front of me.

“I’ll eat whatever you don’t,” Ox said, digging into the feast in front of us. “You never have to worry about leftovers with me around.”

I believed him. The man was practically a human garbage disposal. “Well, I hope you’re hungry, because I think I can only manage a third of this Flinstone-sized portion of meat you cooked me.”

We lapsed into comfortable conversation then and Ox kept my wine glass full. Setting my fork down about halfway through my steak, I admitted defeat and piled it onto his plate. Not missing a beat, the biker devoured mine as quickly as he’d eaten his.

“Save some room for dessert,” I lectured good-naturedly. “I made my favorite peanut butter pie recipe and you’ll be sorry if you’re too full to enjoy it.”

“Oh yee of little faith,” he jested, as he finished off the last bite of his potato.

Standing, I began to clear our plates into the kitchen. Ox rose and helped, offering to dry the dishes as I washed.

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