Page 35 of Trusting The Biker


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“Better my nose than my dick.”

“Fair enough. Do you want to watch a movie?” As much as I was looking forward to having his mouth on me, I think the moment has passed. At least for now.

“Why do chicks love this shit?”

“We all want the same thing.”

“A well hung man,” he teases.

“I mean, that doesn’t hurt. No. We want the fairy tale. To meet the one person our soul connects with on not only a physical level.”

“Like soulmates? Do you believe in love at first sight?”

My cheeks redden. I can’t believe that this bad ass biker is laying in my bed eating ice cream while talking about soulmates as we watch a romance flick.

“So my finger in your ass isn’t embarrassing, but talking about love is?”

“I’m not used to this.”

“What?”

“You in my bed and having these conversations.”

“What I tell you?”

“That you’re not like other men.”

“Finally.”

“What?”

“It’s sinking in.”

“Smart ass.”

“You done with this?” He reaches for my bowl.

“Yeah.”

He excuses himself to the kitchen and I snuggle further down in the covers, rolling to my side, eyelids growing heavy.

At some point I drift off to later awaken to the heat of Prodigy’s body warming like a personal furnace. I’m not used to sharing my bed with anyone. I shift away from him slightly, only to immediately be pulled back to the same spot.

His lips touch the side of my neck. “How was your nap?”

“Decent,” I mumble, groggily.

“How long was I out?”

“About four hours.”

“Sorry.”

“You need the rest.”

He’s not wrong. Though I think I could’ve been hit by a truck or struck by lightning, and I’d still want him right now.

“Hungry?”

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