Cyrus (The Henchmen MC 9)

Luckily, they were all used to my being a bit zoned-out and in my own world.

They figured I was thinking about books.

They had no idea that what the real problem was, was that I couldn't seem to get a pair of seaglass eyes, a bright, boyish, happy smile, a gorgeous face, a soft voice, a plethora of belly-fluttering endearments out of my head.

And that I was almost jumping out of my skin with excitement - and a healthy dose of nerves - about my friendship-date the next day.

Even if a part of me was maybe not super keen on the friendship part.FOURCyrusThere are rules.

When you are a connoisseur of women, there are just plain rules of decency you have to follow. You don't fuck your brother's women. You don't fuck your sister's friends. You don't home wreck. And you don't drag a good woman down into your depravity.

That was the difference between a ladies man and a manwhore.

A manwhore was just looking for holes to plug, not giving a single fuck about the consequences of his actions.

Me, well, I gave a fuck.

Because I didn't just want to fuck women.

I loved women.

All women.

And that didn't just mean in a sexual way, though I definitely got more than my fair share of that.

I had a deep respect and love of women. Like the girls club. I wasn't on their good side because I wanted the other men in the club to think well of me. No. I just loved them all individually.

Summer and her sweetness, but firmness that made her able to catch and keep a man such as Reign.

Lo and her ability to control and command her whole empire, be a voice of reason among her women, be a hopeless romantic.

Janie and her over-the-top badassery that put most men to shame.

Maze and her spirit, her ability to run with the big boys without it making her any less feminine.

Penny and her undeniable goodness.

Mina and her guards, but mushy center, even if it was off-putting at times how well she could read you.

Bethany and her strength.

Kennedy and her bootstrapping.

And those were just the Henchmen women. The girls club went much deeper than that. I fucking loved them all. When they would let me, I would butt in on their nights out or their nights in.

Maybe, in part, they reminded me of my sister, Wasp, who I hadn't seen in far too long.

But whatever it was, women were a huge part of my life.

And I liked that.

But because they were, I knew exactly, almost the moment I met a woman, if she was the type I should put my hands on or not. It wasn't a matter of could. So long as she was straight and single, if I laid the charm on thick enough, there was no doubt in my mind I could have pretty much any woman I wanted. That simply didn't make it right.

Every once in a blue moon, I came across a woman like Reese. It took less than five minutes to see that they were special. And special women didn't have one-night-stands with some lowly biker who never called again. Or who only ever booty-called again.

Sometimes it was because they were in a bad place in life; it would be akin to taking advantage of a girl fresh off a breakup when they were vulnerable and in need of comfort. In other words, douchebaggery at its finest.

Other times, they were in too good a place and didn't need guy drama to get in their way.

Occasionally, though, it was because they were just too goddamn good. Reese, the sweet, shy, blushing librarian with books in her purse, yeah, she was fucking good. Too goddamn good for me. She deserved some professor, or some novelist or some shit like that. Someone who read the same books she did, who had a steady - maybe somewhat boring - job; someone who would appreciate the unique mind she obviously had if she lived in all those fictional worlds.

Maybe he couldn't make her come ten times while he devoured her sweet pussy. Maybe he couldn't fuck her until she saw the face of God.

But he would be loyal, steady, someone she could depend on.

She deserved that.

And while I absolutely could deliver on the pussy eating and fucking part, I couldn't say I was exactly at the point in my life where I could be steady and dependable. That simply wasn't the life I led.

But I still was intrigued by her.

I wanted to know her.

So I did what I had to do; I offered her friendship.

Hell, she truly seemed like she needed it.

The way she pulled the wallflower card in a place she had clearly frequented before was evident of how little social interaction she got. She was a bookworm. And she spent her days in a dusty library. Who could she have possibly interacted with there? Some kids too little for school? Some old people who didn't have a computer at home?