Letting out a sigh, Cora wasn’t surprised even when James sat down beside her.
“Sorry about what happened in there,” he said, being the first one to speak between them.
She turned to look at him. He sat on the side where she got a good look at his scar. Cora didn’t mind his scar. James was a sexy man. From the moment she walked into the back room she’d clocked him. He commanded a presence even when he didn’t do anything. That quality, in her opinion, was rather rare in men. James, he had it, where his brother didn’t. “Do you debate fucking women often?” she asked.
“No, Pixie has a problem. A lot of the women who fuck him believe he’s in love with them or some shit. He can’t handle it, and he hates it when a bitch cries. I’m the one who picks up the pieces.”
He held a bottle of beer in his hand, which he offered to her.
“I’m driving, remember?”
“Stacey’s staying the night. Leo and Paul are nowhere near done with her.”
“Great.” She made to stand up, but James placed his hand on her arm.
“Stay.”
Cora stared at him before lowering herself back to her seat.
“Thanks.”
“I wasn’t going to fall in love with Pixie, nor was I going to fuck him.”
“He brought you to the back room. It’s a big deal with him.”
“I didn’t argue with him. He’s the one who invited me back. Not once did he ask me if it was okay to fuck me. I wasn’t going to fuck him, and I had no intention of being with him,” Cora said. “I’m here because Stacey wanted to party, not me.”
“I’m starting to think this is more your scene.”
She turned to him, and he stared right back. “How did you get your scar?”
“Bad fight turned really bad. I more than made up for it.”
Cora pursed her lips, but James didn’t say another word. “Are you the Prez of this club or just an average member?”
“You know the workings of an MC?”
“Not much. I watch television, and I occasionally party. Ask Stacey, she knows way more than I do.”
He chuckled. “I’m the Prez. Pixie’s my brother. They’re all my brothers. I’d die for them.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We’ve all got each other’s backs.”
Cora tilted her head to the side. The scar, to her, didn’t detract from his looks. If anything, the scar only enhanced his attraction. He made her pussy slick by his look alone. James brought the beer to his lips, and she saw his hands were large, and his fingers looked rough.
Licking her lips, she watched as his gaze moved to her lips.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“You’re a very handsome man.”
He looked shocked. “There’s no need to lie,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re wrong, and I’m not lying. To a girl you may come across as ugly as fuck. To me, you don’t.” Cora pressed her palm against his face, stroking her thumb over the scar. It wasn’t even rough anymore. “How old are you?”
“Forty, you?”