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“I can’t believe I fell asleep.” To be honest, I was more surprised that I’d woken up when I didn’t need to.
“I can. You were exhausted. I pushed you hard.”
“For my own good.”
“Yes.”
“How’s your shoulder?”
“Better. My knees are fine too before you ask.” He tipped his head to the side. “How about you? You feeling okay now?”
“My head’s clearer. My butt still aches.
“To be honest, I’m more worried about things outside of my control. I know my father.” I tensed. “He won’t like being foiled.”
“You’re my wife now, MaryCat.”
In name only…
Huskily, I whispered, “Am I?”
“If you want to be. But in the eyes of the MC, you are either way, and they’ll kill to keep you safe.”
I bit my lip at the thought. I really shouldn’t find that reassuring, but I did.
“What if I wanted to try being your Old Lady?” I whispered, having learned the phrase fromSons of Anarchy.
He grew still. “I’d say you were crazy.”
“What if Iwerecrazy?”
“Then I’d tell you that I don’t live in a place like this and that I can afford plenty of shit but not five-star pads.”
“More to life than luxury.”
“You’re used to this.”
“Didn’t see me complaining about the motels on the road over here, did you?”
“No,” he said slowly.
“They were gross. I can deal with gross. Sometimes, end goals matter more than the journey.”
“That’s because you were desperate.”
“I was,” I agreed. “And exhausted. But…”
“But?”
I placed my hand on his abdomen. My fingers spread over the lean muscles, and the sixteen-year-old me squealed inside at touching him. Touching the guy who’d starred in my wet dreams for over eight months before I’d done something about it and had decided to get a boyfriend who’d kissed like a fish and hadnotbeen the Adonis I’d truly craved.
The one I was now married to.
“MaryCat,” he chided, a warning in his voice.
“What? I want to touch you.” My fingers slipped down, trailing along his torso until I felt goosebumps stir into being at my caress. “I’ve wanted to touch you for years.”
“I’m not a teddy bear.”
