Page 66 of Hash

Cormac releases my nipple, letting me know he’s done. With one hand, I tuck my breast back in my bra and right my shirt.

“Can you hold him for a second? I need to use the bathroom.” I outstretched my arms to him, with Cormac in them.

Hash looks at him with wide, unsure eyes. It’s in this moment that I realize Hash hasn’t held him before.

“Rest him against your chest and gently pat his back. He usually has a few good burps in him.”

Hash does as I say. “Like that?” he asks, looking up at me.

“Perfect,” I whisper.

My ovaries are exploding.

When I had Cormac, I think I just assumed he would be it. Considering the way my life was at the time, that seemed like the only option. But seeing Hash hold our baby to his chest like he’s the most precious thing in the world? A burly biker man who looks like he would kill you if you looked at him wrong holding a baby? I would climb him like a tree right now and ride him into the sunset. My inner walls are pulsing with need.

“Bathroom?” I ask, breaking the moment, because if I don’t get out of here, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

“That door.” Hash points to the one on the right side directly across from us.

I smile a thanks at him before dashing in and shutting the door behind me. I lean up against it, my palms pressed flat against the wood as I roughly exhale.

“Holy shit, that man does things to me that shouldn’t be legal,” I whisper as I try to control myself.

It has to be the hormones.

Can I even blame it on pregnancy hormones if I had the kid nine months ago?

I quickly do my business before washing my hands and splashing cold water on my face. I stupidly thought this would help; it didn’t.

If anything, it made things worse because the water made me cold which lead me to thinking about how all I wanted to do is walk back out into his room, crawl into his bed, and have him warm me up in ways Frankie’s client Norma would be gasping at.

Buying myself more time, I do what any girl would do. I snoop.

I open up every cabinet and drawer in this bathroom hoping to find something juicy to maybe get a rise out of him later when I want attention.

It’s healthy to stay a little toxic.

But all I find is a bottle of cologne, deodorant, and towels that look like they should have been replaced ten years ago.

This man really has nothing in here.

“Ugh,” I groan as I place my hands on my hips and look up at the ceiling.

If I can make it through today, I can take care of myself tonight.

It won’t be the same because, in my personal opinion, a dildo can never replace the real thing, but it will at least take the edge off.

Hash has to be done burping Cormac by now and is probably wondering what the fuck I’m doing in here.

Taking one more deep breath trying to ease the ache between my legs, I open up the bathroom door, ready to take Cormac back downstairs and fake it until I make myself come.

“Get on the fucking bed, Aisling.”

Chapter

Eighteen

HASH