He seemed nervous, which made me feel uneasy. I wouldn’t have guessed men like him ever got nervous. Watching him pace in front of the living room window told me otherwise. When he glanced at the street for the umpteenth time, I had to ask.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. Yeah.” His gaze met mine. “What’s the deal with that friend of yours across the street?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s her story?” Facing me, he tilted his head toward the window behind him. “Is she available?”

“She’s uhhm. Yeah. She’s. She’s divorced,” I muttered, confused as to why he was asking. “Why?”

“I was just wondering. I thought Tito might want to get with her when his jaw’s better.”

I was relieved at his revelation as to why he asked, but I couldn’t help but laugh a little at the thought of it. “After that story of yours, I don’t know if she’ll want to. Maybe. It’s hard saying with her.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of why I stopped by. That, and a few other things.”

“You lost me.” Confused, I sat on the edge of the couch cushion and gave him a look. “What do you mean?”

He sauntered across the room and relaxed at my side on the couch. “I want to elaborate. Make a few things. I don’t know. Clear. A couple of things, anyway. Maybe three or four.”

His stammering made me feel uneasy again. It worsened with each pronounced tick of the Tiffany & Co. Chelsea knock-off that sat on the end table at his side.

“Okay,” I murmured.

He was beating around the bush. I wondered what could have happened in the twenty-four hours since he’d revealed the complications of his childhood romance that almost was. While ideas of him laying out his departure plans formulated in my overactive mind, he cleared his throat.

“I wasn’t one hundred percent truthful with you – or with myself – when I told my story the other night. Or when I told you about why I didn’t do relationships.”

I was still quite curious, and a little relieved. “What uhhm. Okay. Well, I’ll listen if you’d like to clarify things.”

He inhaled a long breath. After exhaling heavily, he stood. “I’m not sure if it was what happened with the girl when I was in high school or something else, but I’ve always kind of ran away from anything that even came close to resembling a relationship. I’ve never been in one, really.”

His tired eyes met mine. It was my cue to make him comfortable with the situation. “I’ve only been in one, so we’re pretty close to each another in that respect,” I said, hoping my lack of relationship experience would provide him peace of mind.

He turned toward the window. “I told Baker I was done.”

After studying the darkened street, he turned around. His face was solemn.

I was far more confused than I was before he started speaking. Hoping that he was at a loss for words – and that he was going to complete the half-finished sentence that he’d started – I waited.

But nothing came.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means,” I said. “You told Baker you were done?”

He sat in the chair across from me and let out a breath. “I told everyone about you. Then, when Baker asked whether I was going to continue seeing you or not, I said I was done. But I wasn’t.”

“When did this happen?”

“The Wednesday after the Sunday night we ate dinner here.”

I still had no idea where he was going with the conversation. I looked at him and wrinkled my nose. “A few weeks ago?”

“I guess,” he said. “Yeah.”

“But you’re not? Not done, that is?” I asked, my voice laced with hope.

“No. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to clear things up.”

I thought I knew what he was trying to say, but I felt like I may be reading between the lines. Considering his nervous state – and the fact that he’d done nothing more than mutter a few half-baked sentences – I stood and shook my head.

“I just finished spring inventory. It’s been a long, exhausting day, and I’m mentally challenged right now,” I explained. “Start at the beginning. Just say everything you want to say, and don’t leave anything out.”

He forced a sigh and then looked right at me. “That first night we went out, I decided you were different. In my gut, I wanted to see you again, because I’d never been with a chick that made me feel like I was kicking it with one of the fellas, but that’s how you made me feel. Then, when you sucked my cock, it scared me. I was afraid that I’d become dependent upon you, and if I did, it’d mean I was weak. Even so, I was pretty excited about that blowjob, so I told all of the fellas about it at church. Then, when Baker asked if I was going to keep seeing you, I said ‘no’. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I was scared about that dependency thing. Technically, because Tito heard me say that I wasn’t going to see you any more, I was wrong when I hit him, even though I wasn’t emotionally disconnected from you. It took Goose and Ghost getting in my face about it to make me realize I was wrong. When they did, I went to Tito’s and apologized. He accepted my apology but kicked me in the nuts afterward. I sat at 7-Eleven with an icepack between my legs for an hour, and then I came here to apologize to you. So, here I am.” He spread his arms wide. “Any questions?”

It was a tremendous amount to digest all at once, but I did my best. I did, however, have several questions.

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve got a few.”

“Go ahead.”

“Everyone in your MC goes to church together?”

“No. If I walked into a church, I’d burst into flames,” he said with a laugh. “Church is what we call the MC’s weekly meeting.”

I tried to remember everything he’d said, and then decided it didn’t matter. He’d spilled his guts in an effort to apologize. Everything was out on the table. That, in itself, was enough to convince me he was worth my time.

As much as I wanted to avoid the subject, it was my turn to be equally honest. I inhaled a shallow breath and stood.

I held my head high and looked him in the eyes. “In the spirit of being completely honest, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m biracial. My father was black.”

I braced myself for him to do what everyone else did when they found out.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, his lips parted slightly. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought you were going to say something else. Is that it?”

I bit into my lower lip and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m half Irish. Don’t know what the other half is, because my mom didn’t know much about my dad. My Mom’s from Ireland, though. So, I’m really half Irish.”

“You’re okay with that?” I asked excitedly.

He looked puzzled. “That I’m Irish?”

I shook my head.

“With what?” he asked.

“That I’m half-black.”

“What the fuck’s that got to do with anything?” he asked. “You’re cool as a fan. That’s all that matters.”

“Cool as a fan?” I grinned and then choked on a laugh. “Is that a biker saying?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s one of ‘em.”

“I’m good with everything if you’re good with everything,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “You sure?”

I was. Completely. I nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

He glanced around the room, and then looked at me. His mouth twisted into a smirk.

“Wanna fuck?” he asked playfully.

Dressed in his tattered jeans, lace-up boots, and a plain white tee shirt, Cash was strikingly handsome. He was also big, muscular, intimidating, tattooed, and mean-looking. As he stood and anxiously waited for me to respond, he exposed yet another quality about himself.

He was cute.

“I’ve got a few questions first,” I responded. “But I need you to be honest, no matter what.”

“You’ve got my word.”

“Do you have club whores?”

He laughed. “Nope.”

“Stripper poles in the clubhouse?”

“Afraid not. We’ve got a few pinball machines, though.”

“Have you ever been involved in a cum-fest?”

His eyes narrowed. “A cum-what?”

“Everyone in the clubhouse jacks off on a girl’s face. Then, she has to eat it. You might call it something else, but that’s what I’ve heard it called.”

“Girls aren’t allowed in our clubhouse,” he said. “And most of the fellas jack off at home.”

I laughed at his response, wondering why anyone would jack off in the clubhouse. “I’ve got one last thing,” I said. “More of a request, than anything.”

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Okay.”

“I want.” I swallowed hard. “I want you to kiss me.”

The few feet that separated us promptly vanished. He raised his hands to the sides of my face. His fingers laced together at the back of my neck and his thumbs rested against my cheeks.

I exhaled an uneven breath and closed my eyes.

His soft lips melted against mine. Eagerly, I kissed him, imagining it was the first time I’d ever been kissed.

As he kissed me in return, I wanted to take back all the past kisses in my life, leaving only that kiss in my memory bank of kisses.

Our bodies pressed tightly against one another. His presence enveloped me, and it was much stronger than his muscular physique.

My mind went blank of all thoughts, leaving only the kiss – and that moment as he held me against his chest – to focus on. At the instant that our lips parted, my knees went weak. In response, his hands slid to my lower back, preventing me from falling at his feet.

I opened my eyes.

He opened his.

That kiss erased all kisses of my past. With one simple kiss, Cash owned me.

It was only fitting, considering what happened that night in the kitchen. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and swallowed the taste of him. Lightheaded, yet eager to speak, I peered into his fierce blue eyes and smiled.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I wanna fuck.”