“And I’m just supposed to rely on you to always show up?”
“We can teach you how to defend yourself more. Or you can learn how to shoot. Whatever you want, but I will always show up. You can always count on me showing up.”
Her face fell, and she looked away. “I’m supposed to count on that? I’m supposed to believe you just truly want to protect me? Or is your solution going to be asking me to not go anywhere or do anything for my safety? Will I have any say in anything? Or will you just say you’re more powerful and get the final say?”
“Never. It’s not an option for me. Do you know what a rook does in chess?” She shook her head, and I wrapped my arms around her. “He protects the queen. He can’t take her down, he can’t win against her, he only protects her. If you want to be queen of it all, I will cut down anyone in your way. I won’t stop you or lock you up, and yes, I would happily kill anyone who bothers you.”
Her lip curled. “You shot that guy.”
“I fucking did and loved watching his hands drop from you.” I leaned down, kissing along her neck as I pulled at the towel. I loved the moment he fell, the second his hands stopped touching her. I groaned. I liked her being mine, and I was pretty sure I would do just about anything to keep her to myself. “I would do it a thousand times over.”
“You’re serious,” she said.
I stepped back, looking at the bed and back at her. “I’m very serious. You know, there’s something I’ve wanted to do since I met you. Could we do it now?”
She stepped back, pulling the towel tighter again. “That sounds like you’re about to tell me some weird kink you have.”
“What counts as a weird kink?”
Her eyebrows furrowed, like she was thinking about it. “Maybe anything illegal?”
“Oh, then yeah, I for sure have some weird kinks,” I said, heading to the bed.
“Okay, I’m going to need to know what they are before either of us gets even a foot closer to that bed,” she said, the horrified tone nearly making me laugh.
“I was just thinking about exhibitionism, but I think your mind went somewhere really gross.”
She shuffled back towards the bed again, grabbing a t-shirt to throw on before sliding back under the covers. “Okay, well, we aren’t in public, so what is the thing you want to do?”
“I want to lie down in this ridiculously big, comfortable bed and watch your endless episodes of Dateline.”
“That’s it?”
“For now? Yeah, that’s it.”
Thirty
Regan
Rook stood next to the bed, pulling off his hoodie with a heavy look in his eyes after he asked me to lie in bed watching my favorite show with him. I didn’t know if it was a ploy for anything else, but I didn’t think I cared either way.
The shirt came off next, and I took a deep breath. I loved looking at him. He made himself a canvas, each special piece telling a different story about himself. The dark swirls over his skin came together into one beautiful piece of art. The left side always caught my eye. The scarred side of his torso had to be a constant reminder of the fire that took everything. The scars were rough and uneven, a stark contrast to the smoothness of the rest of his skin. But they only made him more interesting, a beautiful imperfection that I could appreciate from any piece of artwork. Each time I saw him like this, I couldn’t help but feel in awe of every part of him.
He had said nothing, but he smirked when he realized I was staring at him.
“Come on,” he said, kicking off his boots. “Turn it on.”
“You really just want to watch TV?” I asked, already clicking it on as I lay back.
“Yes,” he said as he undid his belt. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he kicked off his shoes and jeans until he was standing in front of me in nothing but boxers. “All those nights I was here stalking you, this is what you did. Well, up here or in the living room, and I was dying to come inside and lie down.”
“I thought you were bored out of your mind watching me?”
“Oh, I was, but it was nice. I run around chasing the worst types of people doing the worst types of things. We don’t stop. Most nights, we don’t sleep. Even when I do get to bed, I don’t sleep much. I have so much on my mind that I can’t.”
“What type of stuff do you have on your mind?”
“The type of work you don’t want to hear about,” he said with a smirk. “Then Maverick Moto work, and now we are kicked out of the place we were living. Apparently, enough people complained about our bikes.”
