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“It was really sweet of you to think of that,” I whisper, my voice quiet with gratitude.
His gaze warms as he nods a few times.
“I probably need a suit of armor for that conversation, or y'know, pants.” I punctuate my poor attempt at a joke with a chuckle. Surprisingly, he doesn't laugh along with me. My gaze strays to the dark shadows under his eyes. “You sure you're okay?”
“Just tired,” he answers quickly—too quickly. “How was it last night—here?”
“Good.” Better to keep it short and sweet. No need to tell him that Bane carried me inside his house with such care that it made my stomach tilt.
“And Bane?” he asks. “He treat you okay?”
I look at him, trying to read between the words unspoken. “He was a perfect gentleman.”
He clenches his teeth hard enough that a little muscle pops along his jawline, and he glances away. “Of course he was.”
“I don’t understand. Did you want him not to be a gentleman?”
“No, of course not. Then I'd have to kick his ass,” he says with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “I’m only sorry I wasn’t here to help you.”
I suddenly feel very awkward standing in the middle of Bane's ensuite bathroom dressed in Nova's shirt and Bane's boxers. Like I mis-stepped somehow and just now realized it.
What's Nova going to say when he finds out about my history with Bane?
I shift my weight a little and lean against the doorframe once more. “Oh, well, you came to the hospital last night. Thank you for that. You didn’t have to.”
He scoffs. “Of course I did. I’m your fucking man, Evangeline.”
His possessive words float over me and skate down my spine to settle low in my belly. It's not the first time he's spoken to me like this, but something about right now feels different.
Or maybe there's something different about him.
Or maybe it's the fact that I have this developing interest in his cousin too. Maybe that's the difference.
“Okay.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Okay? That's it?”
“I mean, we just started this”—gestures between us—”whatever this is, so I don’t expect the marriage treatment.”
“Really, sweetheart?”
His smirk widens and he tips his chin up, and my heart does this stupid clenching thing at the image. Honestly, my pussy does the same thing.
I fold my arms over my chest, a weak barrier between us. “What?”
“Strange way to propose, sweetheart, but okay.”
My mouth drops open but no words come out.
He laughs, and it’s carefree and light. It transforms his face into something so alluring it's almost painful.
I narrow my eyes and bite the inside of my cheek. “Is that the only thing you got from all that?”
He leans forward and hooks a finger into the hem of my shirt, tugging me until I'm between his legs with barely an inch separating us. From his perched position not quite sitting on the counter, he’s closer to my height.
He arches a brow and looks at me from underneath his dark lashes. A dimple pops out to taunt me, and I hate how easily it disarms me.
“I got a lot from that. Like how I need to make sure you know how serious I am. About you—us. I already told you, I don’t need the labels, Evangeline. I’m all in, baby.”
