Page 7 of Foxx
“Do you make it a habit to scrutinize every woman who comes through here?” I ask, knowing that this very second he’s staring at my ass in a thong.
“No,” he answers simply, “and I’m not scrutinizing. I’mpraising. You’re fuckingperfect.” My chest heats unexpectedly as his words cut through the humiliation Ishouldfeel. The way this man talks, how he’s drawing me in with his eyes is spellbinding. If he was the leader of a cult, people would follow him blindly, and, as much as I hate it, I fear I’d be the founding member.
“You don’t have the classic dancer’s shape,” he adds, though it isn’t a negative assessment. In fact, the way he’s looking at me when I turn and meet his gaze again is with appreciation. It’s the heated gaze of a man who likes everything he sees, and I hate that it feels…good.
“Then I suppose it’s good that I’m not here for your dancingorviewing pleasure,” I retort in a sweet voice.
“Hmmm. Then why don’t you tell me who the fuck you are, and exactly what you’re doing in my club looking through the other girls’ things?”
His tone has changed in an instant. It’s aggressive now, and the heat I just felt turns to worry as I realize how alone we are in here.
This close up, he’s a lot larger than he seemed when he was sitting on his bike outside the Yard. He’s taking up almost the entire doorframe. Every part of him is thick and heavy, and he wears dark jeans, black motorcycle boots, and a black and white flannel shirt, all of which seem both well made yet perfectly tattered. His leather Disciples of Sin cut sits over top. I let my eyes move over it, and that’s when I see his title patch over his heart.
President.
A sizzle of heat runs straight up my spine as the identity I assumed is confirmed.
I quickly catalog what it’ll take to learn more about him. Men in his position of power within a club are generally closedoff. He’ll be protected—not that he looks like he needs protecting. In fact, everything about him screams ruthless power, and I know he won’t be easy to get close to, unless he takes an interest in me. Unless Imakehim take an interest in me.
This just got a lot more complicated, because if he is the man Nic was accusing, killing a club member is one thing—killing a club president starts a war.
Brushed metal rings adorn his first two fingers, and I watch the way his lips part to slowly blow out smoke on a long exhale. The challenge of getting close enough to him to find out the truth creates a raging storm inside me. He’s clearly a predator, familiar with trapping his prey, and the way that makes my core begin to spark to life is foreign, almost unnatural. And it’s just…fuckingwrong.
His features come into focus through the haze of smoke in front of him as he pushes off the doorframe and moves toward me. Up close, his eyes are startling. The coolest steely blue, yet they cover me in a blanket of heat. Aiden stops directly in front of me. I flinch as he reaches around me to put his smoke out in an ashtray on the makeup counter behind me, the rest of his last drag drifting over me. I clench my fists at my sides.
“I asked you a question, darlin’.” He interrupts my thoughts as his scent washes over me. It’s spicy, warm, and mixed with leather.
I struggle to remember his question.
“What are you doing here, and why are you taking an interest in shit that isn’t yours?”
“My name is Mia, not darlin’,” I reply, lifting my gaze, “and I work here now. Roz told me to look around and help myself. I was seeing what the other girls kept here, trying to get to…know them.”
“Mia.” He repeats my name slowly as he watches me, cataloging my every expression. “The ocean goddess.” His voice deepens as he reaches down to grip the very bottom of my braid. My nipples harden further as I feel the faintest tug, and then he lets it slip through his fingers, uninterested. I’m helpless as his eyes move down my body, then drag back up, painfully slow until they finally land back on mine. “The ocean goddess with eyes to match. Pretty…” I hardly breathe as his gaze trails down my throat. “Soft… Fragile… But that’s not you, is it…”
It isn’t a question, it’s an assessment, and one that feels way too personal for having just met him.
“Where I come from, goddesses are strong. They lead and they fight…Rhiannon.” His voice is deep and velvety. My eyes burn into his with the way he thinks he can just come in here and judge me.
“Mmm… Maybe that’s more like it, yeah?”
I know my mythology—I was very into cultural worship when I was younger—but I’m very surprised Aiden Foxx knows the Goddess Queen Rhiannon.
The soft pink glow and the heavy silence between us make his features even more ruinous as I narrow my eyes at him and straighten my stance, hoping he hasn’t noticed my peaked nipples or the goose bumps that cover my body.
“Your knowledge of mythology is impressive for a man who lurks in women’s dressing rooms and touches them without even giving them your name…” I trail off, cocking my head to the side. He leans in farther, placing both hands on the counter behind me, caging me in.
“Surely if you’re in this room, you’ve already been told the rules here. And that means you already know exactly who I am.”
Cocky motherfucker.
“Not a clue,” I lie, feeling pressed to show him that I won’t be intimidated by him and that I willnotbe fucked with.
His jaw tics at my disrespect. I know my tone is more antagonizing than it should be. His monstrous hand moves to the side of my face. His touch is as light as a feather under my chin, gently grazing the scar that I don’t try to hide as he eyes it with curiosity.
I got it my first month of training with Briggs, after he swept my leg, and I landed chin first on the hard mat in his studio. Four stitches and almost two years later, it’s still visible.
Aiden moves on, using his thumb to tilt my head up farther so I have nowhere to look but into his eyes, and I ask myself why the hell I’m not stopping him from touching me.
