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Bones opened the door to his bedroom and flicked on the light.
I groaned at the garish brightness of it and quickly went to the nightstand to turn on the lamp. He turned off the overhead light immediately.
I flopped down onto the bed with my legs still hanging off the sides.
Bones sat next to me, but he didn’t say anything. He just removed his dress shoes and then stood to strip out of his jeans.
Finally, he spoke. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I need it.”
With a sigh, I sat up and pulled it out of my pocket. I handed it to him. He took his cell phone and left the room. A few moments later he returned, closing the door.
“The conversation I want to have can’t happen if there are phones around.”
“That’s terrifying,” I muttered.
He shrugged. “That’s the world we live in. You gotta think ahead. So, the next time you ask me if I’m going to kill someone, do me a favor and make sure we’re not around any electronics.”
I flinched. “You’re offended that I asked that.”
“Offended?” He shook his head slowly. “No.”
“No?”
He scratched his jaw. “I’ve done shit, Hayden. I’ve done shit for my club. Don’t ask me what because I wouldn’t tell you even if I thought you could handle it.”
Bones strode toward me. He knelt down and placed his hands on my thighs. His penetrating stare held my gaze captive.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Hayden. Nothing.”
I knew what he was saying. This man, on his knees in front of me, would kill for me—and he’d have no remorse about doing it.
The tightness in my chest eased.
I placed my hand on his heart. “I love you, too.”
He crooked a smile at me. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“What?”
“You just became my Old Lady.”
“You didn’t ask me to be your Old Lady. And you didn’t ask me to marry you, either.”
“You’re going to marry me,” he commanded.
“Am I?” I asked.
His hands slid from the top of my thighs to the underside of my legs, close to my butt. And he hauled me toward him. My legs naturally opened to accommodate his presence.
“You’re going to marry me,” he said again. “You’re going to be my Old Lady. You’re going to take my last name.”
“Bossy,” I murmured.
His look was charged. “And you’re going to have my babies. And I don’t want to hear any argument from you. Got it?”
