“My parents also died of an overdose,” he says. “They tried to get clean but when they relapsed, they didn’t know how much they were supposed to be using and went right back to what they used to take. They had been clean for three years but when my brother died in a car wreck, it was too much for them to handle. So, I lost all three of them.”
“Fuck. That’s awful. I’m sorry,” I say.
“It’s alright,” he says with a smile. “What do you do for fun?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asks with a chuckle.
“More like I don’t remember. I work so much that I just work and sleep,” I say. “I work on my car when I have time but that’s more of a necessity.”
“What do you mean by work on?”
“Oh no!” I say dramatically and he laughs again. “Don’t tell me you’re sexist. I can handle biker gang red flags, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”
“Not sexist,” he says with a sweet smile. “Just surprised. What can you do?”
“Anything, probably,” I say. “I just look it up online and do it. I have most of the tools I need. If I don’t have it, I borrow it from a neighbor.”
“Why don’t you do that instead of delivering pizza!” he asks.
“Because no one wants to hire a girl in a shop, Cole,” I laugh.
“Well, that’s bullshit. I don’t know what being a girl has anything to do with it,” he says.
“What do you do for fun?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I ride,” he says. “If I’m not doing that or something with the club then I’m probably outside doing something.”
“Like, middle-aged man yard work or hiking?” I ask
“Both, I guess. I don’t know how I feel about you calling me middle-aged though,” he says, tickling my side. I giggle and move his hands from my waist to my thighs. Warmth flashes across me when he slides his massive hands to my bare hips and squeezes. I bite back a moan until he steps between my parted legs and pulls me to the edge of the table.
Cole has dark brown hair that is just long enough to run your fingers through. It’s disheveled right now but, fuck, it’s sexy. His beard is neatly trimmed but on the longer side. He is looking at me like he is about to devour me, and I don’t know how to process that.
“I don’t know how old you are,” I say, trying to get back on topic before I make a fool of myself.
“Thirty-six,” he says simply with a playful smile painted on his full lips. “Does eleven years bother you?”
“No,” I whisper, barely audible. “How do you…”
“I know a lot about you, darlin’,” he says. “For the things I don’t know… are you clean?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yeah,” I repeat. Another wave of anxiety hits me, and I close my eyes.
“Riley,” he says softly. “No one is making you do this.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper.
“When was the last time you had sex?” he asks.
“Uh… not since I dated Evan,” I say quietly. “That was over two years ago.”
“Do you want this?” he asks, lifting my chin so I look at him.