Loyal.
Muddy had said he was loyal.
I licked my lips. “What’s an Old Lady?”
“A biker’s wife or serious girlfriend. It’s more than that though. It’s a claim. It’s protection. And if something happened to you, the club would take care of her and any kids.”
“You took the fall for a biker brother? That’s?—”
“No matter how you try and spin it, I was involved in some bad shit. I’m not a good man, Freckles.”
“You left the club, though. You left because you wanted something different. You’re not that man anymore,” I said.
“You don’t know that.”
“Don’t I?” I asked softly. “If you still wanted to be that man, you would be. But you’re not. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here with me. Don’t you believe in second chances, Brooks?”
“Maybe.” He peered at me. “I don’t deserve someone like you.”
I swallowed. “Someone like me?”
“Sweet. Innocent. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’ll just screw it up.”
The longing I heard in his voice tugged at my heart. It was a tether, and it turned me toward him. “Is that why you haven’t kissed me?”
“You want me to kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t been kissed by a man like me.”
“No.” I swallowed. “I need?—”
A dam of lust had been unleashed.
He cradled my cheeks in his hands, and then his mouth covered mine.
And it was everything I didn’t know existed.
It was like coming out of a cold, dark cave into the welcoming heat of the sun. It was like frost melting on pine needles in the early morning light.
His tongue swept into my mouth, and I becamealive.
I clung to him, desperately seeking his warmth, his scent. I needed him, on a visceral level.
His kiss demolished who I’d been.
Swept away in a river of desire was the Poet of old. That Poet was timid; that Poet didn’t know what she wanted and yearned for routine.
I’d hurt myself more than anyone else in my life, because I’d been depriving myself of joy.
Brooks gentled the kiss and then removed his lips from mine.
My eyes fluttered open and I stared into a liquid honey gaze.
I shivered.
“God, what you do to me,” he murmured.
