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“You complainin’?”
“Hell no.” Now that I’m thinking with my head instead of my dick, I stroke my finger over her cheek. “Are we…are you okay?”
Her gaze drops to the mess we’ve made and she wrinkles her nose. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“You don’t have to worry.”
“I’m not worried about me. You made it clear before you had strong feelings about this.” Fuck, I really should’ve gone for the damn condom instead of being a selfish dick.
She sighs and rubs her forehead over my pec, hiding her face. “I have an IUD.”
“Oh.”
She peeks up but avoids my gaze. “They’re supposed to be super effective, but I worry anyway. Never can be too careful or whatever.” She still won’t meet my eyes.
There goes my chest squeezing again. Her trust in me is a gift I want to tuck into a box for safekeeping. “Hey.” I place my finger under her chin, tipping her head back. “I’ve always worn a condom and always tested negative for stuff. Just so you know.”
“Okay.” She blinks as if that had never occurred to her. That’s a good sign, I guess, since last night she was questioning how often I took part in clubhouse orgies. “I did too. The hospital, I mean. They ran all those tests.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead. “Come on. Let’s clean up. Then go find food. I’m starving.”
“Aww, did I use up all your energy?”
“Yes.” I roll out of bed and turn, holding out my hand to her. “Damn, you’re pretty all after-sex-y.”
Her lips twitch into a smile glowing with happiness that I’m damn glad to see after her panic attack last night. Not that I’m planning to bring it up but it’s still on my mind.
What will trigger her next time?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rooster
I’ve never been religious but today I’m convinced heaven consists of watching your woman get dressed. Wearing nothing more than a steel-blue satin and lace bra with a pair of jeans, Shelby’s bent over, jamming her feet into her new boots. I’d offer to help, but I’m enjoying the view way too much for my tongue to function properly.
“What do you think?” Shelby stands and slaps her hands on her thighs, drawing my attention to her legs encased in tight blue denim. She turns from side to side, showing off the blue and gray boots.
“Sexy as fuck.” I’m really glad she got over whatever was bothering her yesterday and let me buy them for her.
She shakes out a steel-blue tank top and holds it to her chest, obscuring my view. “Shonda gave me one of these. Is it okay for me to wear it around?”
“Hell, yeah.” My charter has a similar shirt—our skull and crown with a simple LOKI spelled out underneath in big block letters. A way for brothers to identify her as important to the club without scaring civilians with large, obvious MC symbols. “You’re supporting your man’s club, but it’s tame enough to wear around non-affiliated folks.”
“Ooo, I feel special now.”
“You are.”
She slips the stretchy tank on and stares down. “Hmm, it’s a little tight.” She winks at me. “I’m sure that’s deliberate.”
“Looks good to me.” I reach into my backpack and pull out a blue-checked flannel. “Wear this over it if it makes you more comfortable.”
“It’s kinda hot for flannel. Does it bother you? I can change.”
I stalk closer and curl my finger in one of her belt loops, yanking her to me. “Already said I like how it looks on you. I’m not the guy who’ll tell you what you can and can’t wear, Shelby.”
“I meant because we’re here, with your club. I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”
“If anyone has an issue keeping their eyes off you”—I raise my fists in the air, fighter-style—“I’ll be happy to give them a free therapy session.”
“I’m sure you will.” She rests her hand on my shoulder, then tugs the collar of my shirt aside. “Oh, shoot.”
“What?” I tip my head at an awkward angle, trying to see what she’s so interested in.
“I think I left hickeys on your neck.”
I rumble with laughter. As if I’d ever be mad about that. “Feel free to mark me as yours whenever you want, chickadee.”
“Is that right?” Her eyes gleam with mischief. She opens wide and playfully bites my side through my shirt.
“Shit!” I jump, laughing at the same time. “That fucking tickles.”
She does it even harder, moving around, locating all the ticklish spots I never knew I had. She even adds in some nom-nom noises until we’re both laughing uncontrollably.
“Stop. Stop.”
Instead of stopping, she loops her arms around my neck and leans up to kiss my cheek. “I like when you laugh. You’re so serious most of the time.”
“No one else has the nerve to try and tickle me.” I tease my fingers over her ribs. She flinches and giggles.
