Page 45 of Zane

"I had those when I lived at the manor." He chopped onions and peppers expertly while she pleasured herself by sitting at the counter with her chin propped in her palm. He hadn't bothered to put on his sweater but was wearing the thin undershirt that stretched across his broad shoulders and muscled back very nicely. His hair was tangled from the shower and still damp. She had seen the rest of the tattoos and realized that she wasn't turned off after all.

"Besides, I hate people in my space. My sister is enough." He glanced over at her, feeling a jolt at the smile playing around her sexy lips. He had already decided that after breakfast, it was back to bed. He could not get enough of her.

"She's pushy and insists on checking in every now and then."

"She loves you."

He shrugged. Turning to the stove, he dumped the ingredients on top of the eggs and put the fire to a low simmer. "I love her too."

"It must be nice," she murmured.

"What?"

"Having a sibling. I always wanted one. A sister, I think. Thanks." She accepted the coffee he poured her and took a sip. "Or a brother to look out for me."

She started slightly when he leaned in to kiss her. When he would have eased away, she curved a hand around his neck to prolong the kiss.

He wanted to suggest they skip breakfast entirely, but he had kept her up most of the night and the morning. He was getting greedy. He had to give her time to recover.

She murmured in protest when he moved away, and the sound had him smiling.

"We eat first." He turned back to the stove just in time to rescue the omelet and took the bread out of the toaster.

"What's it like?"

"What?" He glanced over his shoulder and noticed the wistful expression on her lovely face, a face that was washed clean of makeup and looked very young and decidedly vulnerable. He felt something move inside him and recognized it for what it was: a fierce need to protect her from everything and everyone. He had noticed it from the moment her car broke down at the bike stop, and it had grown considerably stronger.

"You probably would have hated it." He plated the eggs and put the toast to the side. Then he added a few grapes and strawberries before handing it to her. "Zoe can be a royal pain in the ass."

Her quick laughter had his body tightening.

"I'm sure she says the same thing about you."

"Not at all. I'm a stand-up big brother," he refuted. Sitting across from her, he watched as she cut into her eggs and waited for her to take a bite.

"Well?"

"Fishing for compliments, Mr. Stanhope?"

"Absolutely."

"It's wonderful." She scooped up some more. "What else can you cook?"

"I do a mean baked trout, and I'm excellent at grilling."

"Do you cook often?"

"Not if I can help it. I'm almost always at the bike stop. And on Sundays I reluctantly go over to the manor to be fed a sumptuous meal, according to my mother."

She sipped coffee and eyed him over the rim. "You're in a gang."

His brows lifted as he sipped his own coffee.

"Why do you assume that I am?"

She shrugged. "Bikers. Aren't they synonymous with gangs and all that?"

"That's a misconception that has been fed over the years. The guys I hang out with are more or less people who want to belong somewhere, to be accepted and not judged because of who they are. The bar offers that kind of retreat." His eyes glinted in amusement. "They're tough and usually appear macho, but they have services on Sundays and collect donations to give to the homeless and the very poor in the community."