Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,31
about me?” he grumbles.
“Because we’ve had sex twice now, and I don’t really know you.”
“I tried to talk you out of that,” he states simply while crossing his thick arms over his chest. And I’m not sure why I hadn’t noticed before, but he has tattoos. Dark ones of what I think are skulls and playing cards on his chest.
“Do your tattoos have any meaning behind them?” I ask, making his jaw tighten in annoyance or anger.
I’m not sure he’s going to even respond, before he finally tells me, “You could say I had to go deep undercover once in a MC.”
“A MC?”
“Motorcycle club,” he explains.
“Oh. Is that why they assigned you to my case, because of the connection to that motorcycle club?”
“Yeah, guess so,” Sam replies. “What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m just trying to get to know you,” I say with a one-shoulder shrug. “You were just sitting there staring at me, so I thought I was supposed to do something, entertain you.”
“Maybe I just like looking at you,” he mutters.
“Oh,” I say in surprise, feeling my cheeks warm at what I assume he meant as a compliment.
“If it bothers you, I’ll leave,” Sam says when he gets to his feet and walks out of the room before I can say a word to stop him.
It’s frustrating how hard it is to read that man! With one question, I may have just sent him on his way.
I lay there in bed for hours, waiting, listening for the front door before I finally fall asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Silas
* * *
Last night I told myself that I was leaving this goddamn island as soon as the sun came up. I got up, put on the khakis and black tee, and decided I would be the first person on the fucking ferry as soon as it starts running again at eight a.m.
But then around seven, according to the watch on my wrist, the scent of coffee and something greasy and delicious being cooked temporarily deterred my plan. I still have plenty of time. I can eat breakfast and easily make it to the dock in less than twenty minutes. That’s assuming that Cora actually cooked enough for me after I bit her head off last night when she asked a simple question…
I honestly don’t know why I like looking at the woman. Before, I was sure it was just her bright red hair that was drawing me to her, like a fiery explosion you can’t look away from. Now, even as a brunette I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman. And her body? Fucking hell. I want to come on every inch of her luminescent skin. But I won’t. My dick is staying in my pants. No more sex. No more spending money on her. I’m done. All I want is food.
That’s all I wanted, until I walk into the kitchen and find Cora cooking in nothing but a faded gray t-shirt that barely covers her ass cheeks. Her hair is damp and pulled up into a knot on top of her head, leaving her delicate throat bare other than for a few curly strands that have fallen loose around the base of her neck. I want to leave fingerprints or teeth marks in that smooth, flawless ivory flesh, I’m just not sure which, so I just stand there and stare at her yet again.
“It’s a beautiful morning out. Do you want to eat on the deck?” Cora says without even glancing at me over her shoulder, having obviously heard me come in. That’s when I notice my feet are still bare. How did I forget my shoes? Maybe because I don’t really want to leave just yet.
Fuck.
“Or we can eat inside,” Cora amends when I don’t respond.
“Outside is fine,” I grumble, heading out that way instead of just standing there watching her cook.
The view of the ocean from the wooden deck isn’t the best, but it’s there, just behind the surrounding trees, the bright morning sun coming up over the calm waves.
And even I can admit that the air here is different than Carolina Beach, away from cars and industries. It’s actually…fresh. I get why Anita loved visiting this place and wanted a home here someday. Not that she ever got to see that dream come true.
“I hope you like pigs in a blanket,” Cora says when she joins me on the deck and hands me a plate. Sure enough, she’s rolled up the sausage links in each pancake, then