She freezes in my arms, and her eyes widen in surprise. No, not just surprise. There’s lust there too. And need.
First, I need to make sure we’re on the same page.
“You’re not going anywhere,” my words are firm. Resolute. “I already told you. I’m not letting you go. I’m keeping you.” My words become slower, more deliberate, “You’re my Old Lady and you’ll stand by my side and ride on the back of my bike.”
“Are you sure?” Her question aches with hope.
“I told you at the hospital,” I remind her.
Her eyebrows pull together as she argues, “You did, but you were also on medication. Pain medication. You just had surgery,” she reiterates. “I’m pretty sure whatever said while doped up on pain meds is not legally binding.”
One side of my mouth twitches as I let how much this woman lights up my life wash over me. “You know you’re really cute when you babble and blurt things out.”
I look down at her shirt and bark out a laugh. She was still in my shirt the last time I saw her, but now she’s wearing one with a pixilated wagon and ox on it that says, ‘Get in loser, we’re going to die of dysentery’.
My voice drops an octave, “And I find you especially irresistible in your history pun shirts.”
“Don’t change the subject,” she scolds me.
“Ah yes,” I draw her flush against me, no longer swaying to the music, “the subject. I believe I was assuring you that I was completely in my right mind and in control of all my faculties when I told you that you’re staying.”
She studies my face in the same careful and probing way she was earlier.
“As far as the club is concerned, the only thing missing from my claim is me making it official at the table and you getting your property cut,” my voice is gentle and coaxing.
I brush a stray tendril of hair away from her face. As I take her in, I marvel once again. She’s wearing her glasses today and my cock is begging me to mess her up. To take her primness and dirty it up.
Fuck; I’m desperate for it.
She wasn’t willing to touch me while I was healing. The fantasies I’ve racked up are immense. I hope she’s ready because I’ve been cleared now.
And she still owes me.
“Stay,” I urge, a plea slipping into the word.
Ezra’s eyes become glassy with unshed tears. “I’ll stay,” she whispers.
I sweep her up into my arms and head toward our room. Our room; it really is our room now. “Titus,” she protests while clinging to my neck, “put me down. You were shot.”
“Teach,” I pout before kicking the door closed behind me, “I have been given a clean bill of health. I’m fine. I’ve recovered.”
I toss her down onto the bed and she scrambles to the other side so quickly that I reach for her but only touch air. After blinking at her in surprise, I give her a look filled with confusion.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says while holding her hands up in front of her.
“Not going to fucking happen,” I grit out the words while stalking around the bed.
Ezra backs up with every step I take. She glances toward the bed, and I know what she’s going to do before she knows. When she launches herself toward the bed to get to the other side instead of being cornered, I’m a step ahead of her.
I grab her easily and haul her against my chest. She looks up at me with wide eyes, but I can see the hunger there. My cock is throbbing behind the fly of my jeans. I’m desperate to be buried in her tight, wet heat again.
“You know,” I slide my nose along the column of her neck, “you still owe me a blowjob. Are you going to pay up, Teach?”
She shivers in my hold, but she doesn’t pull away. A whimper falls from her lips, and I know she’s as desperate for this as I am.
“Are you wet for me?” I breathe the question against her earlobe before snagging her flesh between my teeth and biting softly.
Ezra’s body arches in my hold and I let out a sinister chuckle.
