I won’t say how much better I thought she looked barefaced at the clinic. Even I know that would be rude as fuck to say to a woman who put so much effort into her appearance.
My gaze travels lower. A sweater. One corner of my mouth hitches up. She has to be the only girl in the clubhouse wearing a sweater. With a loose, floppy neck that almost touches her chin, no less. The tight knit clings to her curves and provides me with a much better roadmap of her body than her baggy work outfit. Painted on jeans. Boots up to her knees. Easily the most beautiful woman in the room.
Shit, she has to be half my age.
How come, in all my fantasizing about her, the cosmic age-gap never occurred to me?
“You look nice,” I finally say.
“Thank you.” She tugs at the sweater. Her eyes dart everywhere but can’t seem to meet mine.
“Come. Sit with me.” I jerk my chin toward the back corner. “Somewhere quieter so we can talk.”
“Okay.”
I curl my hand around hers and tug her into the crowd, making sure she stays close so every man in this room knows she’s with me and not to be touched or spoken to without my permission.
“Serena!” Hope jumps out of Rock’s lap when we approach. She briefly glances at our linked hands, but gives Serena a welcoming smile.
“Hi, Hope.” Serena ducks her head.
I drop her hand. Is she embarrassed to be seen with me? Maybe she came here to see someone else—not get manhandled by the ex-con twice her age. What the fuck am I doing? Hell, she could be related to one of the brothers for all I know.
And here I’ve claimed her like a psycho caveman in front of everyone without even knowing her story.
Chapter Eight
Serena
What the hell just happened?
One minute, I was talking to Jigsaw.
The next, Grayson—Grinder—had his arm wrapped around me like a python.
She’s with me, he’d told Jigsaw in no uncertain terms. Not “she’s mine for the night” or “you can have her when I’m done.” He didn’t drag me into a bedroom either.
No, he led me to a quieter corner of the room to hang out with the president of this club, his wife, and the SAA.
Should I warn Grinder about my history here? Will he be pissed? Embarrassed if he finds out I used to be a club girl?
At least no one outs me. Tawny would’ve called me a whore within two seconds of seeing my face and given Grinder a detailed list of every brother she suspected I’d ever slept with. Hope actually seems happy to see me. Or she’s just gracious to everyone. Rock nods at me. Even Wrath acknowledges my presence with a quick chin lift.
Grinder pulls me down next to him. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear in a puff of smoke if he doesn’t hold on tight.
I fold my coat and tuck it beside me. Should’ve left it in the damn car. The couch cushions are wide, built for men with big frames to comfortably lounge. I sink into the seat but can’t rest my back against anything without folding my legs underneath me. Grinder stretches his arm across my shoulders, encouraging me to lean into him. I settle so we’re pressed tight from hips to knees.
He doesn’t need to tell anyone I’m with him. His posture says it loud and clear.
A thrill runs through me. This is crazy. I’d hoped to maybe talk to him. I never expected that if I ran into him, he’d act like this.
Maybe he’s just worried about me. Or thinks I’m out of my depth. That I’ve never been to an MC party before.
If he only knew.
He leans down. His lips brush my ear and my eyes close. A pleasurable shiver slides along my spine. “You never told me why you’re here.”
“I came with my friend,” I answer.
“Are you with someone in the club?” His penetrating gaze searches my face. “Related to one of my brothers?” He taps the Lost Kings MC patch on his cut.
“No.” I turn to explain myself, but he’s right there. Our noses brush. Our lips are a breath apart, like he’s planning to kiss me. Up close, he’s even more brutal and beautiful.
My heart pounds an erratic, happy beat.
The kiss never comes.
Instead, he brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “I’ve been thinking about you since the other day.”
“Really?” My voice is a high-pitched squeak. I did more than think about him. I broke all the promises I made to myself to never go to another MC party again. Just to see him tonight. “I thought about you too,” I admit. “How did you feel after our session? I wasn’t too hard on you, was I?”
He frowns and draws back. Damn, I didn’t mean to sound clinical. But besides my inappropriate crush, I have worried about him. I couldn’t help wondering how he was adjusting to life, if I’d assessed his injury correctly, and if the exercises I’d given him were helping at all.