In the worst-case scenario, I imagined a hungover Mason walking up to her apartment, banging on the door, finding me in here, and beating the shit out of me. I imagined him sending me to the fucking hospital, ruining the chemistry and camaraderie of the Black Reapers MC, and forcing me out the door.
“Mason wants to know where I am,” she said. “What do I say?”
I sighed. That particular question was too fucking easy to answer. She was home. She didn’t need to fill in the blanks that I was with her or that I was the one to take her home.
But the follow-up questions? The ones like, “How did you get home?” “What happened after I banged Diamond?” “Why was Garrett gone when I finished with Diamond?” Those were not going to be easy ones. Those were ones that were going to fuck me over.
I rarely regretted hooking up with a woman, humorous moments of overestimating a woman’s attractiveness aside, but this was a moment where I knew I should have just let this lust go and gone for one of the strippers.
“Tell him you’re home,” I said. “I mean, it’s the truth.”
“OK,” she said, but she didn’t sound sure of it in the slightest. In her defense, I wasn’t sure what the best approach was this morning. “And what if he asks more?”
“Then you just answer him and we figure out the rest,” I said, rolling to the opposite side of the bed and grabbing my clothes.
And it was a damn shame, too. There was something a little more to Hannah Jett than just her being really hot and really taboo. OK, maybe it was just the combination of the two making me all fucked in the head, but I swore there was something else. Attraction?
It didn’t matter. I didn’t do relationships anymore, not after what happened during my teenage years. And I certainly didn’t do them with my Black Reapers friends. Shit, if hooking up with Hannah was bad, that was a whole different level of terrible decision-making.
“You say it like it’s so easy.”
“Well, it’s simple, isn’t it?” I said, a little annoyed. “You are home. And if he asks anything else, we don’t say a word.”
“Mason’s going to be suspicious, you know,” she said. “If he thinks something is up, he’ll press—”
I turned to Hannah with my boxers on and my jeans on but not yet zipped up. I took care of that as I spoke to her.
“Where is the hardass, tough girl that made me work to get some with her last night?” I said. “Wherever that girl is, have her speak to Mason. She’s tough and can give shit back. She won’t just roll over and do whatever he says. So get her to talk to him if he keeps making life difficult.”
Hannah sighed, but it wasn’t a sigh of resignation. It was very much a “fuck you” sigh.
“I wish that you would speak to me with a little more empathy for having fucked you last night,” she said. “I’m not just someone to speak to like this, you know.”
I paused for a second to consider my next words carefully. I did like Hannah, and that wasn’t just because she was hot. She was fun. She was feisty. And fuck, if nothing else, she’d made me fucking work for it.
But it was precisely for those reasons, unfortunately, that I was beginning to realize this was it. If I kept coming over here and hooking up with her, as great as the sex might have been, it would have ended disastrously for us.
“Well, you’ll get through it,” I said. “I promise not to tell Mason if you won’t.”
She bit her lip.
“I won’t.”
It was clear from the way she said it that she hoped that I would say more. But I didn’t. I had said my bit, and now it was time to extract myself from this messy situation as best as I could.
“Garrett—”
But by the time she called my name, I had already gotten the rest of my clothes on and was headed for the front door. A part of me wondered if she would follow me out, cuss me out for being an asshole, really, do anything that I deserved right now. But she did not.
She just let me go.
Even when I got to my bike, I wondered if she would open the door, flip me off, tell me I was a dick. Nope.
It was disappointing.
* * *
I thought about heading home, but that would have made it too obvious that I had not spent the night at my place. Mason might have been a drunken fuck-up, but he wasn’t an idiot. He would have realized that the odds of me being with his sister were much too high.
