I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “It hurt, but not...” My voice trailed off because I didn’t quite know how to explain it.
“He made it work in a way that you enjoyed it,” Tristan finished for me.
Red-faced, I nodded.
“Sounds hawt,” he muttered, leaning toward the coffee table and grabbing the wine bottle.
“Tristan!” I cried, slapping his arm.
“Well, it is,” he protested. “Nothing wrong with some slap and tickle. As long as both parties are willing and get something out of it, what’s the harm?”
“You don’t think it’s weird?” I asked, watching as he placed the bottle back on the coffee table.
“No, Ash, I think it’s fucking delicious. But the only opinion that matters is yours. Did you like it?”
I nodded, my cheeks burning.
He made a ‘meh’ face. “Then it’s a non-issue.”
“What about him acting like an asshole and throwing me out tonight?” I asked.
“That’s shitty,” he retorted. “He’s a dick with a mean temper and an even meaner streak, but I already know this about Pagan. It’s no shock to me.”
Tristan had been seeing Cruise, the tail gunner in Pagan’s club. They met at a Kings of Anarchy party. It wasn’t serious between them. From what I could ascertain, it was more of a situationship than a relationship, but it did mean that Tristan had more insight into the club than anyone else.
“Look,” he went on. “Pagan’s well-liked within the club. Cruisy thinks he’s the shit, but it’s not because Pagan’s made of unicorns, fluffy kittens, and love hearts. The man’s an outlaw MC prez; therefore, if you want him, his mean side is what you’ve got to work with. Can the love of a good woman soften him? When it comes to you, sure it could, but he needs to be a certain way to do his job effectively. All I can advise is, don’t go into this thinking you’re gonna change him ’cause you’re not. Accept him or move on, honey.”
“I don’t want to move on,” I admitted softly. “I know the smart thing would be to end it and meet a nice guy and settle down, but...” I sighed.
“Settling down with a nice guy doesn’t do it for you,” Tristan finished for me.
I nodded.
“We’re kindred spirits,” he muttered. “We need a little fire to light our souls?—”
“That’s exactly it,” I exclaimed.
“Even if it burns us to a cinder,” he finished.
I laughed softly. “Yeah. That too. Every part of my brain screams at me to stop being a fool, and that I’m going to get hurt, but a part of me craves him.”
“Do you love him?” Tristan asked.
“I’ve known him for a week, Tris,” I shot back.
He rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t answer my question, honey.”
I took a sip of wine, giving myself time to contemplate the question. “I don’t know. Even though Pagan terrifies me, he also makes me feel like I can do anything when I’m with him. It’s how I imagine a groupie to feel when the rock star of her dreams takes her out and shows her off. I feel special when I’m with him, but it’s not because ofwhathe is; it’s because ofwhohe is. The man’s a walking contradiction, Tris. He’s broken but strong. He’s hard, but there’s a side to him that’s so caring that it brings tears to my eyes. I can’t work him out.”
Tristan patted my hand reassuringly. “And there lies the attraction. You’ve been the princess all your life. Your daddy worshipped the ground you walked on, and you have three brothers who protected you from all of life’s crap. It’s a beautiful way to grow up, Ash, and I wish more kids had it like you did, Pagan especially, but it doesn’t prepare you for the bad stuff that life inevitably throws. When Lorcan died, you weren’t equipped, and that’s why Pagan’s so attractive to you.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
Tristan dipped his chin, his eyes holding mine. “He’s the only man you’ve met you’re not related to, who you know without a doubt would kill for you.”
I smiled because that was what I loved most about Tristan. He was perceptive.
“Growing up with brothers who are the embodiment of Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hardy, and Gerard Butler from his300era, sets impossible goals for all the mere mortal men out there. Problem is, there are way more betas than alphas, so when you meet a man who’ll force you to bend over his Softail and finger you to orgasm, you’ll never want to let him go, and frankly, girlfriend, who can blame you?”
