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The gray light is full sunlight now.
Noon.
A beautiful day after another night of rain, the world shining as if it approves of everything that’s happened so far.
I can hear Dillon pacing in the next room though, talking in a low voice on the phone.
He’s mad as hell, but in a way that only directs his true intentions.
“I have it all on tape,” he exclaims, groaning after a slight pause.
“Audio and video evidence… That prick Diamond and my probation officer, stupid pricks, telling each other how great they are for setting me up while spending my fucking money…? No, I don’t know exactly how they did it, but it’s a start isn’t it?” I hear him ask, a little weary now.
Chewing on my lip I figure Dillon’s seen and recorded some clients at the club.
Clients who he knows have wronged him. This Matt Diamond who’s double-crossed him.
His big chance to get his life and business back through what he does best, his job. His real job.
Not waiting on doors and just looking big and scary. Actually thinking and using his mind.
“I just need to put it before the judge.” I hear him say firmly, waiting a few moments before agreeing to wait for a callback. Then it sounds like he’s hung up and coming back into the room.
Looking for me. Still wanting to watch over me despite everything else.
“Hope I didn’t wake you?” he says, his lip curling into a smile as he takes in my naked chest over the sheets, which I make no attempt to hide anymore.
“No, you didn’t,” I tell him, but have to ask if everything’s okay.
His face darkens, but only for a second.
“I’m just taking care of a few things, nothing you need to worry about… hungry?” he asks, a keener look in his eyes as he studies my shape under his bedding, cocking a brow as his eyes settle on my already stiff nipples.
“Starving,” I confess, feeling my insides grumble at the thought of food.
Other parts of me still hungry for more of what Dillon has on the menu twenty-four seven.
“I’m thinking bacon eggs and a stack of toast with coffee?” he says. “I don’t do take-out for every meal, and after that, I thought we might take a drive. If you’re up to it?” he asks, grinning a little.
I wonder why until I move to get out of bed.
That pleasant ache between my legs is also affecting how I walk, thanks to being serviced by ten inches of Dillon.
“I’m good,” I squeak, fibbing. Stifling a little moan as I wonder what he’d say if I suggested we just stay in bed all day. But I know he has his plan hatched and needs to act.
I also sense he has plans to keep me in bed all day more regularly soon enough.
He makes a low sound, pleased as he heads out of the room again, calling over his shoulder that he’s making us both a proper breakfast.
It’s what I crave somehow, bacon, eggs, and a pile of hot buttered toast. Dillon’s idea once again hitting all the marks as much as his actions.
“I’ll have a shower and get dressed,” I call after to him, noticing him pause and turn his head to smile at me sidelong.
“I could join you,” he rasps, but I giggle and tell him if we don’t do what he needs to get done today then nothing will happen.
He cocks his head and shrugs, locking his original idea away for another time.
A time I know is after he’s done everything he has to so we can be together forever.
Just us.
No club, no parole, and no bullshit between a man and his woman.
I shower quickly, eager to get back to Dillon and see if I can help but he’s got everything well underway.
His familiar robe open at the chest, exposing flexing pecs as he moves around the kitchen with no real effort.
Everything this man does is poetry in motion.
He surprises me by reaching out for me as soon as I walk into the kitchen, kissing me warmly under his embrace.
The scent of his manliness mixed with fresh coffee and bacon is almost as much as I can bear.
“I heard back from someone just now,” he says, stepping away just long enough to flick a dozen rashers to their other side with the finesse of a short order cook.
My whole face is a question, and I have to know.
“What have you got?” I ask, taking a seat at the breakfast bar, knowing how useless it is to try and get between the man and his work.
He cocks a brow, squirming a little as he pours us both coffee.
“I saw my old business partner in the gaming rooms of the club,” he admits, frowning now.
My mouth forming a perfect O rather than saying the word, ‘Oh’.
