This had John Andrew Gregory written all over it, and I made a mental note to kick his arse next time we spoke. Interfering bastard.
“If you really don’t want us, you have to say so,” Hunter said. There was a challenging note in his voice and I liked how it sounded. He was always so soft with me, but he was an imposing man, and watching him flex that was hot.
Which was not what I was meant to be focusing on, but I couldn’t help it.
I resisted the temptation to tell him to get on his knees, simply to test how quickly he’d fold, and looked up at him defiantly, ready to tell him I didn’t need them.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Hunter smiled and bent down to kiss me. “Let us know you get back to Leicester okay. We’ll be waiting for your messages.”
“And if I don’t send one?” I asked.
Bailey shrugged. “I hear there’s a very nice pub in Leicester we should visit. I think you know the owner.”
I snorted, laughter bursting out of me. “Fine,” I said, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him. “I’ll message you.”
I was still terrified, still unsure, still convinced that as soon as I got home, I’d go back to my old ways and push them out of my life, ignoring them until they gave up.
I was nothing if not predictable.
Even if it would be the worst mistake I made in my life.
