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“He did,” I agree with a shallow nod.
Gunz keeps talking. “We both know if he joins the club and works with me, he’ll be a helluva lot more successful than he would be on the streets. I’ll make use of his talents. Keep him out of jail.”
That’s all I could hope for.
“Thank you.” There’s no way I could ever repay Gunz for what he’s done. What he’s taken on with grace and maturity. A thank you isn’t sufficient, I know this, you know this, and deep down, I hope he knows this too, but I have nothing more to give.
Squeezing my thigh, Gunz knocks his shoulder into mine, expelling a grumbled, “No, love. We’re not doin’ that.” He pauses, inhales, and exhales before carrying on. “No thank yous. No misplaced appreciation. I’m helpin’ our kid because I wasn’t there when he was growin’ up. I’m keepin’ him close because I wanna get to know him. It’s selfish on my part. And… Chibs is your dog. He was your dog the moment you held him. You stay. You go. You never wanna speak to me again. None of it changes the fact he’s yours if you want him.”
“I want him.” Without a single doubt, I want him.
“Good. ’Cause he suits you, and I don’t want you here without protection when I’m gone.”
This man… Always one step ahead. I need clothes. Gunz produces clothes. I need food. We have food. He wants me protected. A dog literally shows up at our doorstep. I’m worried about Adam. He swoops in and offers our son a job to work with him at his club, without knowing Adam more than a few days in person.
Rubbing our dog’s back, I rest my head on Gunz’s shoulder. “He’s gonna protect me?”
Another kiss is deposited onto my beanie, reigniting all the warm-and-fuzzies inside. “Maybe not as well as Deb’s other dogs, but hell yeah, he’ll guard the house.” Alongside me, Gunz pets the pooch with a single finger. “He could put the hurtin’ on someone if he wanted to. Deb trains these dogs to fight. There’s a booklet in the backpack with commands you’ll need to learn.”
Okay.
I guess that’s that.
I now have a dog with fancy instructions, an attractive man seated beside me, and a son pledging to be a Sacred Sinner, or whatever they call it when a person tries to join a motorcycle club. Prospecting? I think that’s what they call them. Prospects.
What’s next?
My head still resting on Gunz’s muscular shoulder, I peek up at his face. Well, the side of it and the gray scruff mixed with goatee there. Out of the corner of his eye, he’s watching me watch him. Our eyes meet. He smiles, soft and sweet. I return the sentiment with a shyer version of my own. Warmth pools low in my belly. He winks.
“Another movie, babe? Or book two in bed? Your pick.” Ever so gently, the sexy man brushes his fingertips over my cheek, down to my throat, and over the marks he made there, eliciting goosebumps in his wake.
I shiver. “Book.”
Decision made, Gunz urges me to sit up, thumbs one of his markings around my throat with a quick admiring sweep, then heads to the bedroom as I take Chibs out to potty. Standing on the porch, I watch our lil guy make quick work of his bathroom duties in the front patch of grass before we both join Gunz in the bedroom.
With the bed turned down, pillows fluffed, the sexiest biker alive spreads out on his side of the mattress, arms tucked behind his head, elbows out, ankles crossed, in a pair of boxers. Only boxers. Tight boxers. I can see everything. Every. Freaking. Thing.
Nearly swallowing my tongue, I stand at the edge of the bed and stare. It’s impossible not to. This is the most I’ve seen of his skin. Chest hair, defined abs, his bullet wound patched, solid pecs with a valley down the center, tattoos for days, including the skull tat poking out from the top of his low-slung boxers. The outline…You know what I’m referring to is… semi-hard. The tip, there’s a definite impression of a hoop or barbell of some sort there. I wanna ask if he’s got a dick piercing, but I won’t. Those legs—long, defined, dusted in hair, and covered in more ink. Where my tattoos are vibrant, full of color, his are darker. Black and gray, with other shades thrown in here or there. Roses and skulls in more places than one. The same symbol the men wear on the back of their vests.
Pulling an arm out from behind his head, Gunz rubs a palm down the center of his stomach to his bulge. He squeezes there and groans, his eyes locked on mine. That wicked tongue samples his bottom lip, leaving a wet sheen behind.
“If things were different, I’d ask you to sit on my face,” he admits out of nowhere, continuing to massage his erection to full mast, not an ounce of discomfort or remorse to be seen.
Shocked by his brashness, I swallow hard but remain poker-faced. There’s no need to show how much I’d love to try that. Not that I have any experience in that field.
He’s not done. “Then I’d tongue fuck you ‘til you couldn’t walk straight.”
My knees almost give out at the thought. “Erik,” I breathe.
The sexiest I-wanna-eat-you-alive smirk hooks at the corner of his mouth. “When the time comes, and you decide to pick me back, I’m gonna do that. Right here. In our bed. I’ll devour your pussy ‘til you beg me to stop. But I won’t, love. ’Cause you’ll be mine… and I ain’t never had anythin’ be all mine.”
Oh.
“Erik.” I open to mouth to say… what? I don’t have the slightest clue. But he cuts me off before I can say something I’ll regret.
“Don’t say anythin’, love. Just get your fine ass up here.” He pats my side of the bed. “Take that stupid hat off first, so I can see your sexy head for once, and then read to me. I wanna hear all about Rhage and his old lady.”
Doing as instructed, I throw the beanie onto my nightstand with flourish. Gunz chuckles. Refusing to let my lack of hair own me, I do one better and remove all my clothes, down to my sensible blue lace panties. No bra. Nothing. Emboldened by him and my faux confidence, I pretend I’m just as sexy as I was when we first met. When my tits were perky, and I didn’t have tiger stripes across my abdomen. When cellulite was just a word other women had to deal with. Then I crawl into bed beside the man who turns my world upside down. Chibs joins us, making his own kneaded doggy bed at the end of ours, in the corner, facing the door.
