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He kissed like he knew how to pleasure a woman.
He kissed like a conqueror who wanted his conquest to fall apart and shatter beneath him.
I would never be the same after I went to bed with him. Something inside me knew that. And if let him in, if I truly let him in, it would change me. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to be changed.
After I did a quick nighttime routine, I opened the bathroom door. Bones was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over so his elbows rested on his thighs. He’d taken off his leather cut and his shirt.
“It’s all yours,” I said, flustered at the sight of his bare chest.
He unfolded himself and rose. “Thanks.” He flashed a grin and sidled past me.
I walked to the bed and climbed into it and turned on the lamp. I pulled the covers up to my chin and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying not to think about the big biker in my bathroom.
My gaze eventually wandered while I listened to the sound of the faucet. It landed on the nightstand on Bones’ side of the bed.
It landed on his pistol.
An involuntary noise escaped my throat.
The bathroom door opened and he loomed in the doorway. He leaned against it, propping his forearm along the doorjamb.
“You look terrified,” he stated. “The idea of me sleeping in your bed terrifies you?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s…” I gestured with my chin to the pistol. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
His expression was passive. “The other men you’ve dated didn’t have pistols?”
“I don’t know. If they did, I didn’t know about them. They certainly didn’t sleep with them on the nightstand.”
“If you need it, it doesn’t do you any good in a drawer.”
I paused. “That’s a good point.”
Bones pushed away from the doorframe and then killed the light. The lamp glow gilded him in shadow and amber.
He lifted the covers and slid in next to me.
I leaned over and turned off the lamp.
It was quiet except for the sounds of our breathing.
“My dad took me duck hunting once,” I voiced.
“Did he?”
“Yeah. He taught me to use his shotgun and then we went a few days later.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I paused for a moment. “It’s not about the pistol.”
“It’s about me.”
“It’s about you,” I agreed.
“I am who I am, Duchess.”
“And who is that, Bones?”
