Joker (Hell's Ankhor #8) - Aiden Bates Page 0,16

he’d never brought up his brother before. And he didn’t offer any more information. From the sudden tense line of his shoulders, and the deep furrow in his brow, it was clear that even bringing it up hurt him. Was it recent? His grief seemed so powerful and heavy, even at the barest mention.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, “for your loss.”

Joker swallowed hard. But, surprising me again, his posture eased, and he went back to whittling. “Thank you,” he said, quietly.

Clearly Joker wasn’t interested in talking about his brother—I could be a bit nosy, sure, but I wasn’t the type to push at a hard boundary like that. Admittedly, it made me more interested in him, though. It explained so much about his brash personality—he wasn’t just an asshole. He was hurting. No wonder he lashed out like that. And when he wasn’t hiding behind that rough exterior, there was a soft kind of vulnerability right under the surface. And now that I’d gotten a glimpse, I wanted to see more.

Dawson would argue that Joker’s another one of my projects. But it didn’t feel like that. He was just—cagey, and sad. But he was also smart, and talented, and had a softness to him. I didn’t want to fix him. I just wanted the chance to know him.

“So if you’re the old-fashioned type to dab on cologne after shaving,” I asked cheerfully, pivoting away from his loss, “are you also an old-school straight razor, too?” It was a joke, intended to lift his mood a little.

“How’d you know that?” Joker asked.

I started. “I was kidding. No one uses a straight razor anymore.”

“That’s because no one has the skills,” he said with another one of those small smiles. “And they’re trying to get you to spend tons of money on disposables. Straight razor’s the way to go.”

“Jeez,” I said. My throat went a little dry as my gaze skittered over his face, lingering on the sharp curve of his smooth jaw. The image of Joker standing in front of his bathroom counter, shirtless, drawing a straight razor delicately over the fine skin of his cheek and jaw… Fuck. It was hot. It sent a thrill zinging down my spine. Ugh, then my treacherous brain started thinking about Joker doing that to me—one hand on my chin, his sharp eyes focused as he drew the blade over my skin—

I stopped the thought right here. I did not need to get hard just from sitting next to him, breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne.

But Joker was looking at me now, whittling set aside, his gaze flickering to my lips. “What?” he asked knowingly. “You ever used one?”

“Never have,” I admitted in a low voice.

Joker tilted his head to the side a little, exposing the curve of his jaw. Then he raised his eyebrows slightly in an obvious invitation.

Fuck. I couldn’t resist that—I reached out and drew my fingertips slowly across his skin. Perfectly smooth, like he’d suggested, and warm. The muscles of his jaw jumped under my touch, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

He turned his head back to face mine. I didn’t remove my hand. Suddenly we were very close together. His tongue darted out and wet his lower lip, unconsciously, and I stroked my fingers across his jaw and then barely touched the swell of his lower lip.

His breath caught.

God, I wanted him. Wanted to pin him up against the tree and kiss him breathless. But this wasn’t the right time—there was more to Joker than he let on, and I wanted to learn what that was before diving into something I didn’t quite understand.

And to my own surprise, my desire to uncover more of who he really was outweighed the heat rushing in my veins. I had the sense that if I took my time—waited a little—I could show Joker he could open up to me. And that might be even better than a steamy stolen kiss.

But why did I want that so bad? I’d always preferred serious relationships to hookups, but I wasn’t totally against them—and Joker was the perfect candidate for a meaningless quickie. Brash, and annoying, and he wanted me, too. It would’ve been so easy to just make a move and get this desire out of my system. Or—at least, that’s what I used to think. But now, I didn’t want that. I knew it wouldn’t satisfy me. If anything, it would ignite this desire into something even more unquenchable.

I pulled away