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"Fair enough," I agreed, not giving a fuck about the gun or my rep at the moment. "Grab your coffee, mami. Let's go."
"Go where?" she asked suspiciously, but she went to fetch her coffee.
"My room," I specified. "To talk," I added when her eyes went the slightest bit heated. "And then other things if you want," I added, lips close to her ear so Virgin couldn't hear. "You're not sleeping," I observed as we made our way down the hall. "You look tired."
"I am," she admitted, not offended by being told she looked tired.
"You're staying tonight," I told her, not asking. "You'll sleep." It was a promise, one she knew I could deliver on.
With that, I pushed open my door.
I'd had women in my room before. Of course I had. But it had only ever been casual. So I never gave any thought to what they thought about the space. But this, this felt anything but casual. And I found that I wanted her to feel comfortable, something that had never occurred to me before.
It wasn't a huge space, none of the rooms were since there were so many of them. But it was enough space to fit a king when you butted one side against the wall, which I did, covered in a black and grey plaid comforter. No extra blankets or pillows like she was used to. But comfortable enough. The nightstand flanked one side with an empty bottle of beer and a wrapper for the takeaway roast beef sandwich I'd had the previous night. I was usually better about filing shit away, but I couldn't bring myself to care too much. Across from the bed was a small dresser with a TV on the wall over it. There was the half-open door to the closet next to the fully open door to the bathroom - just a space half the size of hers at the loft. But private.
When it came to accommodations, we really had it made considering we didn't have to pay any rent. I wondered at times what would happen when the club outgrew the space. As it was, Repo and Duke had moved their shit out of their rooms, leaving them all but vacant. Maybe that would be a pattern that would continue for all the men - as they married, had kids, they gave up their bachelor pads in the compound.
"I didn't expect the art," she said as she moved in, eyes moving over the walls.
"The place is kinda noisy. Having shit on the walls helps keep the sounds out."
"And in," she mumbled, but not with any malice, any jealousy for things that happened before we had even met. "Are these just from like...the store?" she asked, moving closer to eye them.
"They're actually from my sister. Ana has always been amazing."
"Does she do this professionally? Because she should."
"Partially. She does shows when she can get them. She works in a small gallery."
"That's really cool. Good for her. Did you have a good time with them?" she asked, content to put off the conversation about the real reason she was here. And, quite frankly, I didn't mind. I was just happy she was in my room.
"Yeah. I mean... it was Christmas," I told her, watching her nod at that, sure she had had a good time with Astrid and Cam as well. "I wondered what it would be like if you were there, though," I admitted, watching as she turned, eyes skittering around a bit.
"No, you didn't."
"I did. I wondered what you would talk to my sisters about. How you would respond if my mom laid into us about settling down and having babies. I thought about you. All I've done since I left the loft was think about you. Actually, you ruined my surprise."
"What surprise?" she asked, finishing her coffee, putting the mug down on the nightstand.
"I was coming back here to get some shit together, call Astrid, see if you were around, then come up for the new year. All romantic and shit," I added with a smile.
"You have Astrid's number?"
"She sent me a pic of her slippers this morning," I admitted, leaving off the fact that seeing it had only managed to make the ache inside worsen. To be reminded of them. Of the time I spent there.
"That little sneak. I had no idea." She paused, moving to lean back against the door to the hall. "Why were you going to come?"
There we go.
It was time.
For the talk.
I'd never had to have it before.
I didn't know the right way to approach it, the right words to say.
But I figured if you just said what you meant, what you felt, then you really couldn't fuck it up too much. That was what my sisters complained about - men who hid shit, who weren't up-front, whose wants and intentions were unclear.
