He didn’t.
He liked looking at me, my eyes especially, like just then but particularly when he was inside me. I never came without my eyes to his and his to mine; Hop made it that way. I’d never had a man look me in the eyes so intently, so steadily, so hungrily, as Hopper.
I found my hand lifting even as the rest of me didn’t move, cupping his jaw, my eyes watching my thumb trail the side of his ’tache, moving over the thickness of his whiskers at his jaw, and he muttered, “You really like that, don’t you?”
My gaze went to his and I kept my hand where it was. “Yeah.”
That was an understatement. It looked good on him. It felt good on my skin. It felt better between my legs.
Heaven.
“Before you, was thinking of shaving it off. Growing a patch.” He lifted his hand, touched his middle finger to the indent under his lower lip and I took in his rings.
A plain silver band on his thumb and three rings, side by side, index, middle and ring finger, one that said “Ride”, one that said “Free”; the last said “Chaos”.
Badass, biker, cool.
“I’ll wait until we burn out before I do that,” he concluded.
My eyes cut up to his.
I’ll wait until we burn out before I do that.
His tone was light, his lips surrounded by that ’tache tipped up. He was teasing.
I didn’t like it. Teasing, I could take. A reminder we would burn out, I couldn’t.
I didn’t tell him this mostly because I refused to process it.
“Not that you need it but you have my encouragement to grow the patch,” I said instead then clarified, “Along with the mustache.”
His face dipped closer, taking my hand with it, his eyes never leaving mine as he whispered against my lips, “Then I’ll grow the patch.”
I smiled against his mouth.
“Gotta go, honey,” he went on and there was one good thing in that. He sounded like he didn’t want to.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he replied but didn’t move, didn’t let go of my eyes, nothing. When this went on for a while, he prompted, “Forgetting something?”
“Uh…” I mumbled.
“Lady, kiss me.”
Lady.
I’d been around Hop and all the Chaos boys for some time. They called women a lot of things, some of them good, some of them not so good.
Not one of them, not one, called any woman “Lady”.
This was something else he gave me. Something gorgeous. Something I wouldn’t let settle in my soul or I’d be lost, lost again. Not lost to a jerk or an asshole who played games or had to cut me down so he wouldn’t feel I overshadowed him. Lost in what I’d discovered the hard way was worse. Lost to a dangerous man who could not only get me hurt but who could hurt me worse by getting himself that way.
I didn’t share any of this either. I tilted my head, lifted it, pressed my lips to his, slid my tongue in his mouth and I kissed him. Hard. As hard as I could. As hard as I knew how. And I did it deep.
This lasted for a while then it lasted even longer when Hop’s arms closed around me. He hauled me out of bed, across his lap, arched me over his arm, and he kissed me. Deep and long.
When he broke the kiss, he twisted me back in bed, pulled the covers up under my arm, tucking them around my back (something else sweet and gorgeous I tried to forget the minute he did it, though not entirely successfully, alas) and he bent in to kiss my temple.
“Later, babe,” he muttered then pushed to his feet.
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t call, “Tomorrow?”
I knew it would come out eager or desperate. I wasn’t about to be either.
Not again.
I’d learned that lesson the hard way too.
I just curled back around my pillow and watched him round the bed until he disappeared.
Once he did, I waited until I knew he was downstairs before I reached and turned out the light on my bedside table. Then I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got out, yanking hard at the sheet to free it from the end of the bed to take it with me. I wrapped it around my body, tucking it tight, and went to one of the two wide double windows that looked out to the courtyard of my house. Carefully, I slid up one side of the plantation shutters and looked out.
The courtyard was in darkness. My outside lights were not on but the space was dimly lit by streetlamps in the alley. I saw him move through. I liked the way he moved, just walking. I liked the way he moved other places better.
He went through the back gate and disappeared down the side of my garage.
I slapped the shutters closed, leaned my forehead against them and closed my eyes.
“One night,” I whispered. “It was supposed to be safe. Just one night.” I pulled in a breath and let it out on a “damn.”