Right where I want her.
It’s given us a chance to talk. I’ve learned a lot more about Ezra than I ever hoped to be able to learn.
She’s quirky, but in a silly way. While she takes a lot of things seriously, she doesn’t take herself seriously. It’s endearing.
I love that about her.
She’s thoughtful when it comes to the important things. When we’ve talked about the future, she was very intentional with her words. Knowing she wants kids, that she hopes to be a mom, and the life she wants her kids to have, only made me want her more.
I’ve started to reassess how I’ve always told myself to look at her. Sure, her dad sheltered her in a lot of ways.
But it didn’t have anything to do with protection, like I had assumed. It was control.
It would be easy to condemn the man for it, but the more she’s opened up about her childhood, the more I think it all came from love. He just sucks at it.
I’m not sure I would have done any better if I were in his shoes. That’s the part that really pisses me off.
I’m not interested in sympathizing with the man.
I might have to. In the future. The distant future.
Now we’re getting ready to head over to the clubhouse for a party. It’s the first official one where Ezra will be by my side. If the anxiety that’s been rolling off her while she flits around getting ready is anything to go by, she’s aware of what this means.
Bobby still being in the wind isn’t helping with her worry.
It’s really starting to piss me off.
“Be prepared for people to give you shit,” I project my voice to where the bathroom door is slightly open.
If she hustles out of the bathroom one more time in the tiny satin panties and bra she’s wearing to grab a different piece of clothing, I’m not going to be able to hold back. A man can only be tortured so much.
She’s already darted out of the bathroom three times. Just her bra and panties hiding her from me.
Every time the door swings open is like a knife fraying just a little bit more of the rope holding my control in check. It’s almost been sawed through at this point.
My fists clench and I take a deep breath as I hear a scoff coming from the bathroom. “I’m always prepared for that. It’s just a matter of what kind of shit to expect.” Her tone turnsserious, “You don’t even want to know how bad parent-teacher conferences can be. Mama bears are no joke and when they think I’m insulting their intelligence through their offspring? Terrifying.”
I chuckle, my eyes locked on the sliver of light coming from the bathroom, the sliver I’m allowed because she kept the door open. I’m very aware that she’s teasing me. She could have easily gotten dressed in front of me.
Instead, we’re playing this peek-a-boo game. My cock is a lead fucking pipe behind the fly of my jeans.
“Tonight,” I start to tell her, “it’ll be the guys giving you shit for taming the president. They’ll also be trying to get me to react by saying bullshit about my balls or some other crap,” my tone is dismissive.
I don’t give a fuck what my brothers have to say. Not about this. Ezra is it for me. I’m sure of it now.
“I can handle that,” she assures me.
“I haven’t claimed you at the table.” Her movements from the other side of the bathroom still as I say the words. It’s like I can feel her holding her breath. “Just because I haven’t made it official in the eyes of the club doesn’t mean they don’t all know it’s going to happen.”
Her breath hitches and her fingers curl around the edge of the door. She grips it hard, her knuckles turning white.
“What did you just say?” The question comes out of her slightly ragged and breathless.
“That it’s going to happen? Me officially claiming you?”
I don’t bother trying to pretend like I don’t know what she’s asking. I’m not about to give her anything to latch onto to try to explain away what is between us. Not tonight. Not fucking ever.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “That.”
