Hands folded into my lap primly and far too proper, we sit like this for what feels like ages. I fix the blanket over my legs. He fidgets. I mimic his discomfort with a brand of my own. I’m not sure why this is so difficult. It’s not like we haven’t kissed before. I’ve had his tongue in my mouth. I bore his child. Obviously, we fucked, decades ago, but it still counts. There is no reason for this skin-prickling hyperawareness.

  Staring straight ahead, to not focus on him any more than I already am, I watch a black television screen. When that becomes too monotonous, my gaze wanders to the picture on the wall beside the television—of a younger Gunz and his club brothers standing beside a shiny row of bikes, their arms spread wide, as the giant of a man, Bink calls hers, stands front and center, pointing to the president patch on his chest. It’s sweet. A real snapshot of their life and the joy being part of this family brings.

  Before I get a chance to ask about the photo, Gunz breaks the pregnant silence with a string of colorful under-breath expletives that ends in a grumbled, “I’m sorry.”

  What does he have to be sorry for?

  “For?” I reiterate aloud.

  Shifting in his seat, Gunz massages the nape of his neck. “Everything?... Fuck. I don’t… I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Do what?” I seek clarification because he’s acting stranger than I feel, and that’s saying something.

  “Sit next to a woman…” He clears his throat and even that’s sexy. “No… My… woman,” the man emphasizes.

  Oh.

  Damn.

  “I’m yours?”

  “Yeah. Of course. We already agreed on that.”

  Sure. In the middle of a traumatic moment, we did. People say and do all sorts of things they wouldn’t normally do in times of crisis. Right? Riiight? Are you nodding in agreement? I sure as hell hope so.

  “And that’s why you’re acting weird?” Again, more clarity is needed.

  His too-handsome face scrunches into an equally too-handsome scowl. “No. I’m actin’ this way… ’cause I don’t wanna cross lines.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere.

  “What kinda lines?” I ask.

  “Christ.” On a sigh, Gunz’s drops his head back onto the sofa, his eyes focused heavenward. “Okay… We’re doin’ this now… huh?”

  Excuse me.

  Huh…

  What?

  What?

  Did he just say what I think he said? We’re doing this, now? He started this. Yes, I wanted to have a talk…eventually. That’s what you do as an adult. Talk. Communicate. But he’s fidgeting more than a kid hopped up on sugar, and I’m over here sweating in places I shouldn’t be sweating.

  Taking the high road, my tone remains neutral as I pretend this is normal. That we’ve done this dozens of times before. “Sure. Why not? You have anything else you have to do today?” I shrug to appear indifferent, to play it cool. On the outside, the façade is effective. On the inside, I know I’m the biggest liar, liar pants on fire.

  “Besides be with you… no.”

  “Then have at it.” I gesture for him to let it all out.

  “Do we sleep together, as in next to the other?” he blurts in a rush as if the words are gonna light his ass on fire.

  Again, I play it cool. “That one’s easy. Yes.”

  “See.” He speaks to the ceiling. “I didn’t know that. You … you know what you just went through… I need to be respectful of that. As a man… part of my anatomy… that finds you insanely fuckin’ sexy… wants to… ya know… do things.” He motions toward his manhood. “But I get we won’t be doing any of that for a long while. Understandably so, which is why I need you to tell me what’s acceptable and what’s not. You set the boundaries. I respect the boundaries.”

  That’s fair. Sweet and fair.

  When I thought I couldn’t adore this man any more than I already do, he proves me wrong.

  See, I told you, good guy.

  Pulling a hand from underneath my blanket, I rest it on his thigh. The man shivers, literally freaking shivers on contact. I pretend not to notice. To set his mind at ease, I explain what I’m comfortable with. “Hold my hands. Touch my hands. All okay. Hugging me, also fine. I’m not gonna break, Gunz.”

  “Erik. Please call me Erik.”

  Oh.

  “You sure?”

  Cue a round of awkward nodding. “Yeah… Yeah. I’m sure… You sure I can touch you?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” To cement my words, I bump his shoulder with mine and chuckle.

  The simple gesture does little to allay Gunz’s concern. Leaning into my arm, bare skin on shirt, he takes my hand into his, weaves our fingers together, and squeezes, before resting them on his thigh. “Yes,” he notes, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “But this is… fucked. You had a doctor up in you, and I wasn’t there. Then I was worried somethin’ was gonna happen ’cause I wasn’t. I don’t wanna fuck this up. I want you to stay. If you don’t want to, I get it. My club’s responsible for what happened to you. Then there’s the matter of my son. I wanna see him and get to know him… I… fuck… This is… a lot… and I don’t know how to… ya know… talk about it… How to… see… I’m a goddamn mess.” Once more, his head meets the sofa’s back. A lofty sigh imparts his lips.

  The man needs to give himself grace. This is new for all of us. A total life-altering event. Nothing could have prepared me for what’s ensued since the night I showed up at their gate. Neither of us have the answers. Life is messy. Our situation is messier than most. But he’s here. I’m here. We’re breathing and talking. That’s a win in my book.

  “You also haven’t slept much.” We could both use respite. Nothing will be solved in a day. It’s gonna take time.

  “That too,” he agrees.

  “Why don’t we lay off the heavy for a bit? Just be here. You and me. We don’t have to talk about everything right now. How about we put on a movie since I know how much you love those?” I laugh, recalling how much he dislikes television. “We can relax. Veg out on the couch. Eat food. Cuddle.” The perfect compromise, in my not-so-humble opinion.

  “That… works.” He sounds skeptical.

  “You sure?”

  Rolling his head in my direction, Gunz meets my eye. “Truth? I’ve never done that before.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever.”

  Shaking my head in astonishment, that a man in his fifties has never taken a day to unwind in front of the television, cuddle with a female, and gorge on food, I set out to make this day the best for us both. We deserve it.

  First, I untangle from Sir Hotness, get my lazy bum off the couch, and grab the remote from the entertainment stand. I hand it to Gunz with specific instructions to find us something to watch. Anything he picks is fine by me. I haven’t watched anything good in ages. Next, I raid the kitchen cupboards and come up empty, unless you consider salt, sugar, half a bottle of ketchup, and a giant bag of rice proper sustenance. He has nothing to eat. Definitely, nothing to veg with—like buttery popcorn, chocolate, maybe chips, or some other version of bad-for-you-but-tastes-too-good junk.

  “The sisters are bringin’ food later today,” he calls from the living room.

  That sounds perfect.

  “Janie and Dom moved to a new trailer while we were gone. So, the cupboards are probably bare, love,” he tacks on as I hear him surf through the channels.

  Bare is an understatement.

  Working with what I’ve got, I make us tea and carry the hot mugs into the living room to sip on as we watch… “John Wick?” Genuine elation bursts from my lips.

  Looking out of his element, Gunz shrugs up one shy shoulder. “You said it was good, yeah?”

  “It is.” I reclaim my seat beside him, hips touching, and offer him his drink.

  Blanket strewn over my legs, mug cradled in my hands, I rest my head on Gunz’s shoulder as he presses play.

  See, we can do this.

  Netflix and chill.

  The literal kind, not the naughty version.

  Get your filthy mind out of the gutter.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  KIT

  Somehow John Wick morphs into a marathon of action flicks—Terminator 2 and The Transporter, to name a few. Tea long forgotten, Gunz spoons me on the couch as I use his thick bicep as a pillow. Time and time again, we siesta whenever the desire strikes. Hours pass with his arm draped across my middle, his dick against my ass, as he draws comforting circles onto my belly over my shirt. Every now and again, he pecks my head, then snuggles his nose there, inhaling my scent as if he doesn’t give a damn I notice.

  It’s wonderful. Every minute. Every touch.

  “Glad you’re here, love,” he whispers against my beanie, coaxing a warm-and-fuzzy grin to the surface.

  “Me too,” is my simple reply.

  Dragging his damp lips across my neck, he kisses me there, soft and oh-so-sweet. “Wanna kiss you all better.”

  I hum, fully on board with the sentiment. He can kiss me all he wants. Anytime he wants. Wherever he wants. Gunz is safe. Sexy and powerful. I snuggle into our embrace, communicating as much without words.

  A palm flattens against my belly, and he sucks a mark onto my neck. Light flicks of his tongue coat my skin, setting it ablaze, between deep pulls and nibbles. My toes curl as I push my ass back, feeling his length hard and thick against me. His palm presses harder into my abdomen, melding us together. “Is this okay?” he mutters.

  “Yes,” I croak, praying he doesn’t stop. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this good… this cared for and desired.

  “I won’t do anything more, love. I promise. I just wanna feel you…” He clears his throat. “I need to… mark you.” Gunz laves across the mark he finished, drawing circles around and around with the tip of his tongue, tasting me, his breath hot on my flesh, his groans low and sensual in my ear.

  “Okay.” I shiver.

  “I promise it won’t hurt.”

  “I trust you.” And I do. Without a doubt.

  “Need to erase them…” with marks of my own is left unsaid. Yet somehow, I understand.

  One by one, each imprint is replaced. I roll onto my back as he leans up onto an elbow to kiss and taste another before sucking the bruise away, replacing its ugliness with a creation of his own.

  Unable to stop my body’s reaction and not wanting to, I grow wet, goosebumps pebbling across flesh as Gunz nudges my chin with his. Rolling my head toward him, I nuzzle his bicep and relish in his scent—all man, spice, and yum.

  His beard scraping the best of ways, my hot biker peppers the gentlest of kisses upon the last fingerprint. “You’re beautiful,” he mutters before tasting me there. “Salty.” He hums in satisfaction.

  Teeth scrape flesh.

  I gasp.

  He moans, turned on by my reaction.

  Undulating against my thigh, Gunz sinks deeper, pulls deeper. Reaching across my body, he grips my hip with his free hand. Fingers imprint flesh. In time with his sucks, he tugs me harder against his form, fucking my thigh through his sweats. Eyes rolling back into my skull, I free-fall into the moment, not the past, not the future. Here. Now.

  Pleasure pounds through my veins.

  Arousal soaks through the cotton of my pajamas as I squeeze my legs together, to quell the ache there.

  Gunz inhales deeply as if he can scent my excitement. Moaning, broken and sexy, this glorious man ravages my neck. Teeth sink deeper, and I let him because I want more. More of this. More of us. Just more.

  Following his lead, I taste and suck his bicep. Each pull on my neck elicits one of my own upon his flesh. Like a buoy in the ocean, I reach out to him, to tether me as we float into a maelstrom of ecstasy.

  There is where he protects me.

  Covets me.

  Fisting the fabric of his sweats in my right hand, I saw my legs together as he continues to roll against my hip. In unison, we lose ourselves, sucking welts into flesh. Quivering in the best of ways, my back arches off the couch as the pressure builds.

  And builds.

  Gasping for air, I teeter on the precipice.

  “Let me help you.” Gunz nips my chin.

  Before I can ask how, a palm slides down my hip to the side of my thigh. “I’ve got you.” His dick wears an impression into my opposite thigh as he squeezes my legs together for me.

  That’s it.

  All I need.

  Succumbing to pleasure, sparks roar to life—violent and beautiful as my eyes slam closed. Moans pour from my lips.

  Heat consumes.

  Everything coalesces.

  My nipples harden. My clit throbs.

  And he’s there.

  Stoking the flames, higher and higher. Whispering encouragement in my ear. Taking me to the brink, where breath ceases to exist.

  “That’s it.” He squeezes me once last time… and…

  I rip apart at the seams.

  Digging my heels into the couch, my back bowing, ecstasy ravages me, and I let it.

  Want it.

  Need it.

  Time ceases.

  When I moan, Gunz moans.

  When I shudder, he shudders.

  When I grab for him… he’s there…my anchor.

  “That’s it, beautiful.” He nibbles my shoulder.

  I gasp, almost climaxing again from the touch alone.

  Everything feels tight.

  Sensitive.

  Awake.

  Catching my breath, I open my eyes and look at him. His face is red, those eyes lazy—bedroom sexy. The hard cock at my hip bucks with need. Biting my bottom lip, I flick my gaze to where he is and back to Gunz’s face. He shakes his head slow and firm, brooking no room for argument for what he’s about to say. “Ignore him. This isn’t about him. This is about you.”

  But I want to help… I open my mouth to say but I’m shut down when Gunz delivers that same, no-nonsense shake as if he knows what’s going on in this head of mine.

  Reaching up, the handsome man brushes the backs of his fingers over the fresh, achy marks around my throat. “That’s all I need... for now.”

  “Marks?”

  “My marks.”

  This man.

  Oh. This sinful man.

  Turning onto my side, so we’re face-to-face, I brush my fingertips down the center of his pecs, across the bumps of his abs to the edge of his pants, where I tease a finger there just above the waistband. He groans a heady, please-don’t-do-this-to-me kinda sound. I love it.

  “No,” comes out as more of a croak.

  I bite back a pleased smile. “Why?”

  “Because I’m gonna wanna fuck you. And when that part of me comes alive, he can’t be trusted.”

  “What part?”

  “The deviant.”

  “You’re not a deviant,” I argue on his behalf.

  Head shaking as if I know nothing, Gunz cackles dark and dangerous, without humor. “Wrong. ’Cause if you knew what I really wanted to do to you, you’d run away screaming.”

  My stomach swoops. “Tell me,” I whisper in anticipation.

  More of that firm-head shaky shit. “There’s no fucking way that’ll ever happen.”

  Fine.

  I sigh far more dramatically than I should. Sure, I don’t want sex. Truthfully, I don’t even know what I want. But this right here works for me. He works for me. All the yucky stuff doesn’t exist when we’re in our bubble, just the two of us.

  Respecting his wishes as he does mine, I relent, not because I don’t wanna help him complete, but because I respect him. My fingers draw upward, my palm flattening to his sternum, right above his heart and the old-school tattoos inked there. Gunz rests a hand of his own upon mine, holding us in place. His skin’s hot. His pulse a reckless thud against my fingertips.

  Eyes boring into mine, he mutters, “That’s better.”

  “It is,” I agree, enjoying this closeness far too much. “Now, please tell me more about this deviant of yours.”

  Again, with the head shakes. “Lord have fuckin’ mercy, woman. No.” The smallest of smirks awaken as if he’s amused by me but doesn’t want it to show.

  What can I say? I’m inquisitive by nature. Have been my entire life. Once I find something I like, I need to know all about it. Humans, hobbies, your mama’s award-winning spinach dip… makes no difference. Fascination is fascination, and this creature is the most fascinating person I’ve come across.

  “Please.” I’m polite, not pushy.

  Throwing his head back into the cushions, Gunz bites out a frustrated, “Christ.”

  “How are we gonna get to know each other if you don’t talk to me?” The same goes in reverse. I don’t expect this to be one-sided.

  “I talk to you,” is his simple reply.

  Tugging on the tip of his beard so he’ll look at me, I offer an olive branch whenever he’s ready. “I’ll make you a deal. Whenever you wanna talk about this deviant, I’ll tell you about what happened to me.” All the parts. Even the worst of them… the ones I compartmentalize, and those are the scariest of them all.

  Eyes on mine, Gunz huffs the cutest, frustrated laugh. “Love.” He ends with a you’re-driving-a-hard-bargain groan.

  I smirk. “Yes?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Sure it is.

  “How’s it not? Trading personal information for more personal information.”

  “Do you wanna talk about what happened?” he tests, as if he’s hoping I say no and that’ll be the end of this discussion. It’s not. I’m all in. If he wants to share, I’m gonna share. That’s that. Pain happens. Talking about said pain is part of life. You wade through it like mud in a swamp, where alligators lurk, and mosquitoes the size of small dogs suck blood from your soul. It might be scary, with a healthy dash of agony. But… eventually, the sun comes out, and there you stand, with its warm rays beating down on your dirty, insect-bitten face, smiling because you’re still alive.

  In response to his question, I’m as honest as I always am. “With you. I would… If you want to know.”