Page 47 of Legacy

But when the door swings open and Reagan’s gaze locks on mine from across the room, I’m not stupid enough to believe my own lies.

Her delicate fingers trace over the front of her dress. It hugs her chest before flowing out at the hips. My hands could slip right up it to grip her silky thighs. We could fall into this, and I could be the person to break her free from the restrictions she’s spent her life adhering to. We could ignore the blood on my hands and pretend that, for just one night, I’m good enough for her.

These are dangerous thoughts, and probably one-sided as Reagan breaks our staring contest to look around the room.

My blood pumps as her eyes sweep the space, assessing my room in a way I don’t think any other woman has.

I’m desperate to know what she’s thinking. To know if she sees me as the man this club makes me or if she thinks there could be more.

“Your brothers seem nice.” She takes a step closer while keeping far enough away that I can’t reach out and make any bad decisions.

“You and Soul seemed to be getting along.”

“We were.” Her golden-brown stare lands on me. “But I get the impression he was just feeling me out to figure out my intentions.”

“You noticed that?”

Most people write Soul off as a gambling flirt, but Reagan is observant enough to see the truth. There’s a lot that lives beneath his surface. He wields his charms like aweapon when needed. While he was flirting with Reagan to piss me off, he was also deciding what he thinks of her and if she’s worth the club trusting.

“Soul is cautious of outsiders, but he has the best interests of the club in mind. He looks out for his brothers,” I explain.

She hums, watching me. But she doesn’t ask me for any details, just like she didn’t ask why I came home covered in someone’s blood. Reagan makes her own assessment and decides whether she needs more of an explanation or not.

If I had to guess, it’s because her family raised her not to question them.

“So are you not as weary about outsiders as Soul is then?” she asks, her eyes narrowing fractionally.

“Why do you ask that?”

She shrugs. “You and Chaos seemed to be skipping the interrogation with those girls earlier.”

A smirk climbs my cheeks when I realize there’s jealousy blazing in her eyes. The rosy blush climbing her neck gives her away, and it’s stunning.

I should probably change the subject before this turns into a conversation she doesn’t want to hear, but with her attention on me, I want to test the boundaries of my honesty with this girl to see if she can handle it.

“It’s not that I trust them, but they’re not living here like you are. It’s different.”

“Just sex.” It sounds harsh, even if there’s no judgment inher tone.

“It’s a means to an end.” And pathetic, I realize, as I hear myself say it out loud to a girl who deserves a hell of a lot more from a man than I can offer.

“Hence the room at the clubhouse.” She looks around. “Separation of church and state. The biker and the father.”

It’s nearly a whisper from her lips, but it hangs in the air, floating between us.

“Are you trying to put the pieces of me together, Reagan Brady?”

“No.” Her gorgeous gaze snaps to mine. “I understand all the pieces already, Jesse.”

My tongue swells. “Good to know.”

“But can I be blunt?”

“Are you capable of being anything but blunt?”

She certainly doesn’t hold her tongue when it comes to me.

“Being blunt is better than being dishonest.” She shrugs.

---