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"How old did you say they are?"
"Eighty." Her shoulders slump. "Um, I should warn you before you go in that they're both feral, and I have no control over anything that comes out of their mouths. Believe me, I've tried. But when you're that old, I guess you get to say whatever you want. At least, that's what Gran always tells me." She shrugs, looking slightly sick. "So I'm sorry in advance if they say anything inappropriate. And ignore any questions about your…um…" Her gaze drops to my lap, heat climbing into her cheeks. "Well, just ignore any questions, okay?"
Jesus Christ. The more she talks, the more I can't wait to meet these two.
"I'll take that under consideration," I say to ease her mind, though I have no intention of following through. I'll answer any questions they have. Unless she's serious about them asking about my dick. I'm not fucking whipping it out for two old ladies to inspect or some shit.
Fucking hell. Surely, she isn't suggesting that's a possibility…right?
Either her life is far more interesting than mine, or she needs a whole helluva lot more help around here than I realized.
"My rules are simple, lamb," I murmur. "What I say goes. No trying to ditch me. No puttin' yourself in danger. We're doing things my way now."
"I already don't like your rules," she mumbles just loud enough for me to hear.
"Then you'll really hate the last one."
"There's more?" She sounds horrified, and I've never wanted to eat someone more.
"Mmhmm. You need to tell your grandma that we're dating. It'll make her hate me far less when I'm sleeping on your couch tonight." It'll also give me an excuse to touch Emma whenever the fuck I want. Dick move? Probably. Am I sorry? Absolutely not.
"S-sleeping on my couch?" Emma squeaks. "You didn't say anything about sleeping on my couch, Zayne! I didn't agree to this!"
"I can't guard your body from across town, little lamb." I cup her cheek, gently closing her mouth with my thumb. I'd much prefer to guard it while she's wrapped around me in her bed. But I have a feeling I may not survive the next five minutes if I suggest that, so I don't go there. Yet.
But is it really my fault if a motherfucker gets lost looking for the bathroom in the middle of the night? No, no, it's not.
"Come on. Let's go meet Gran and Bets." I slide out of the truck before she decides to call this whole thing off. I think she knows I'm full of shit. She's played along this far because her resolve is weakening, but if I push too far, I may just push her curvy ass right out of the door.
"Zayne!" she hisses at me.
I slam the door, pretending not to hear her.
"I'm going to murder you in your sleep!" she shouts, making me laugh as I circle the truck to help her out.
"Watch your step, baby girl," I murmur. "Matter of fact…" I slide my hands around her waist, lifting her from the truck. She grabs onto my shoulders as if she thinks I'm going to drop her. But I've carried bloody, battered Marines out of the worst shitholes on this planet without faltering. There's not a chance in hell I'll drop the most important thing I've ever held in my arms.
"Put me down," she says breathlessly, her blue eyes locked on my face.
"Mm. Holding you is doing a number on my cock, but damn if I don't love every fuckin' second of it."
"You can't talk to me like that."
"Yeah? Says who?"
"Me."
"In that case…" I nudge the truck door closed and press her up against it. "Maybe I forgot to mention that other rule."
"Another rule? What rule?"
"The one where I'll say whatever filthy thing I want to say when we're alone," I growl, running my lips down the side of her throat. "My mouth, my choice, baby girl. And I choose to use it to tell you how fucking crazy you make me."
"Zayne," she moans, pliant in my arms. "We're outside."
"Believe me, I'm aware." I nuzzle her neck, growling. "Fuck, you smell edible. Do you bathe in sugar?"
"What? No. Who does that?"
