“How many I’ve fucked? You really want to know how many women I’ve fucked? Are you serious? How many guys have there been? Wait. No. Never mind. I really don’t want to know.” He closed his eyes and shook his head as if trying to clear it like an Etch-A-Sketch.
“One,” I whispered since I was stubborn and pissed off and evidently incredibly dumb.
“Wait. What? One guy in eight years?” He blinked rapidly as his throat bobbed with his swallow.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked. Though I realized he was right, it was probably not the right time to discuss this stuff. Yet my mouth kept running.
“Because that’s all it took. Now you.” My jaw set as I prepared myself to be bombarded with his manwhore ways and mentally made a note to find a place to go get tested.
“One.”
“What?” Stunned, I couldn’t get out anything more than that one word. He was a big bad biker in a big bad motorcycle club. I’d seen the shows. I knew what their lives were like. There was no way.
His chin dropped to his chest, and he closed his eyes, then nodded.
“Only one woman has touched you in eight years?” I asked as if he couldn’t really expect me to believe that. His lids lifted, and he winced.
“I didn’t say that, but you asked how many I’d fucked.” My stomach churned a little at the possibilities behind that statement, yet I reminded myself we hadn’t been together. It wasn’t as if he’d cheated on me, nor me on him.
“Why only one?” I finally choked out, trying not to envision the possibilities.
“You first. What did you mean when you said that’s all it took?” His deep mocha eyes stared unblinking at me.
Digging for the courage to tell him the truth, I finally opened my mouth and spewed the words. “It only took one to show me they weren’t you,” I whispered as my words caught on my shuddered breath.
“Jesus,” he muttered softly as his eyes closed briefly. When they opened, I thought I saw the shimmer of tears in them before he blinked them away.
“Tell me how you can be part of a 1-percent club and only have had sex with one woman since me.”
“Two reasons.”
“Which are?” I prodded as my hands cupped the back of his neck and my thumbs held his scruff-covered chin.
“I swear I didn’t know about Trace,” he began. My eyes narrowed as I waited, biting my tongue. “But I didn’t want to take the chance of getting someone pregnant and passing on my abilities to them.”
“Wow.” My chest ripped open.
“No. Don’t go there. I was a fucking idiot. I didn’t know any different. Because even though it’s only been a day, I wouldn’t walk away, and no way would I want to go back to not knowing he existed. We’re going to figure this shit out. I meant it.” His vehement words spoke right to my heart, but I prayed I wasn’t foolishly jumping in with both feet.
The problem was, Jude “Angel” Bearheart had owned me heart and soul since I was a kid. So I promised myself I’d guard my heart this time and enjoy him while I could. Because once Trace was sufficiently educated, if I valued my sanity, I needed to go home.
“And the other reason?”
“No one compared to you.”
Knowing I might be an idiot, but unable to be otherwise with him at that moment, I bit my lip, then whispered, “Fish that fucker out and finish what you started.”
His lips twitched and then he chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”
I’d seen the ugly side of people. The sick, depraved, twisted, and selfish side of society that thought it hid well in the shadows. I’d done everything I could to make sure none of that touched Trace, yet there we were.
The men that Angel called brothers were some scary-looking dudes. Hot, but scary. Well, maybe not all of them. Some could’ve passed for Santa Claus. Well, if he drank beer and cussed like a sailor.
Jasmine had only joined the gathering briefly. She stayed by the bar nursing a beer and avoided eye contact with the big tattooed guy they called Chains when he tried to talk to her. He had rolled his eyes, grabbed a beer, and sauntered back over to the group he’d been sitting with. She left her beer sitting on the bar and stormed down the hall toward the rooms.
Kira had been chatting with me, but Voodoo stole her away after the guys finished with a brief meeting. They’d been filing out a few at a time ever since. Deciding to go save Hawk from my son’s incessant chatter, I stood from my barstool.