“I don’t know how I let you talk me into all this,” Slash said, looking at the Folson’s bags that were currently in the corner of my apartment. “Oh wait, I remember.”
“I’m a woman and I used my wiles,” I teased.
“Wiles? You burst into the changing room while I was naked.”
And I’d dropped to my knees because I couldn’t stand not having him in my mouth.
“You were easily persuaded after that,” I quipped.
“I didn’t take you for a woman who likes to get down and dirty in public.”
“There were a lot of things I didn’t think I’d be into before you came along,” I said. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
His eyes blazed with heat.
My nipples pebbled instantly.
What was it about this man that made me ravenous?
Was it the way he demanded what he wanted from me without causing me any embarrassment or shame?
Was it my own uninhibited response to him?
He made me feel safe in my wants and needs.
“You’re thinking too hard, when you should be getting naked.”
I grinned. “Apologies, my liege.”
He snorted.
I removed my jacket first and tossed it aside. My boots were next. I slowly stripped out of my clothes until I was striding across the floor completely naked. Slash stood there, still wearing everything.
His hands slid out to grasp my hips and he pulled me into him. The rough denim of his jeans braised the seam of my body, igniting desire deep in my belly.
Slash’s fingers tangled into my dark hair, and he pulled my head back so he could capture my lips. His tongue thrust into my mouth, devouring me with every stroke.
My knees literally went weak, but he caught me. He scooped me into his arms and brought me to the bed. He set me down and then took a step back.
With a heavy, lidded gaze that he didn’t take off me, he began removing his clothes.
I spread my legs wide, showing him how much I wanted him. My hand wandered down my belly to rest at the apex of my thighs.
He sucked in a breath, his hazel eyes glinting green and gold. “Damn, woman,” he growled, dropping to the bed between my spread legs.
Slash grasped my hips and hauled me toward him. He gently pushed my hand out of the way.
I laughed, but I choked on it when he bent down and grazed his tongue along my cleft.
He slid his hands beneath me and lifted me toward his eager, hungry mouth.
I was held prisoner by the pleasure he gave me.
My eyes rolled into the back of my head while he feasted like a starving man. I ground against him, needing more, needing it all.
I slapped the bed with my open hands as my orgasm flowed through me.
Slash didn’t stop. He kept licking and sucking, wringing more from me until tears streamed out the corners of my eyes.
Only when I stopped trembling did Slash lift his head to stare at me. His lips glistened with my release.
He raised up, grasped himself in hand, and guided his erection into my body. He bent and took my mouth with his. I tasted myself on his tongue and another bloom of desire sparked between my legs as he filled me.
Slash gripped my leg, angling himself deeper. His thrusts were controlled, measured.
“Again, Brooklyn,” he growled. “I want you to come again.”
I gasped as he hit me deep.
He drove into me, rattling the headboard against the wall. He reached between us and stroked me. I clenched around him and screamed out another release.
I watched his skin slicken with sweat and his cheeks flush with heat. He pounded into me, relentless, without mercy. Finally, Slash clutched me tighter and came with a shout of his own. He crumbled on top of me, sweaty and breathing hard.
I wrapped my arms around him and brushed a kiss along his shoulder.
He raised himself up and peered down at me, a smile drifting across his face. “How the hell am I supposed to get anything done with you around?”
“I could ask you the same question.” I squeezed him, and he shuddered in pleasure.
Slash kissed me and then gently pulled out.
He got up and turned his back to me. The lights were on in the bedroom, and I studied the ink on the canvas of his back. It was one giant mural, several pieces melding together to form a morbid yet beautiful picture. There was the classic reaper with a scythe in his hand. On a chain around the reaper’s neck was a broken hourglass. All the granules of sand had poured out of the damaged glass and spilled onto the ground, collecting in a pile. Out of the mound of sand rose a tree with a tire swing. At the base of the trunk was a ring of daisy flowers. The branches of the tree embraced both his sides.
I trailed a finger over one of the branches and tacitly asked Slash to turn so I could follow the twigs. They wound up his ribs toward his heart. On his left pectoral was a heart-shaped alarm clock, reminding me of the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. The hands of the analog heart clock showed the time of two-thirteen. On the right side of his chest was a skull with angel wings, which I knew was the Blue Angels logo.
His hazel eyes were locked onto me.
“What do they mean?” I asked.
“I’m not ready to talk about them.”
“Why do you do that?” I demanded.
“Do what?”
“Always put up a roadblock when the conversation turns to you. I’ve told you so much about my life, Slash. I don’t feel like…”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to let me in.”
“One minute you’re overwhelmed because of how fast this is moving, the next you want me to spill my guts. I’ve been on my own for fifteen years. I don’t check in with people. I haven’t had to do that in a long damn time.”
“Well, you’re checking in with me,” I stated. “Because if we’re doing this, then I need more from you than just furniture and cars. I need something else from you. Something real.”
“That doesn’t come easily to me.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” I snapped.
“You asked for time, yeah? Well, maybe you can cut me a break and give me some time. I’ll tell you about my tattoos. I’ll tell you what they mean to me—they tell a story. You gotta decide if you’re willing to wait for me to tell you when I’m ready.”
“It’s not fair,” I said quietly.
“I know. But that’s the way it’s gotta be right now.”
His ink obviously concealed something truly personal. Maybe something dark. Did I have it in me to be patient? To have a little faith? To not push when pushing wouldn’t get me what I wanted anyway?
“You don’t look like a Stryker,” I said finally.
He let out a long exhale, like he was relieved that I was willing to accept his explanation for now. “What do I look like?”
I traced his scar across his brow. “I don’t know. But not a Stryker.”
He rested his hand on my belly and stared at it for a moment. “Have you thought about names?”
“Names? No. It’s so early. I haven’t even had an ultrasound yet.”
“Superstitious?”
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit.”
“Then what—”
“It’s going to sound weird.”
“I like weird.”
“I think it’s strange, you know? People pick out these names for their kids before they even know them. Before they even meet them. I think I want to wait.”
“Wait?”
“To meet him or her. I told you—it’s weird.”
“Not weird. Different.” He paused. “I like that you’re different.”
“You’re okay with it?”
“Yeah. I’m okay with it.” He clasped the back of my head and brought my mouth to his for a tender kiss. “But I want something.”
“What?”
“I want to be in the delivery room with you.”
“Really? Labor is messy,” I protested.
“Yeah, so? You think I’m going to miss seeing my kid being born?”
“But if you’re in the delivery room with me, there are things that might happen that I don’t want you to see, like ever.”
He looked amused. “I know.”
“No, you don’t understand. There’s a very high probability I’m going to shit myself. Like, actually shit myself. I don’t want you to see that.”
Slash shrugged and got up off the bed.
“That’s it? You can’t just shrug and walk away! This is serious!”
His shoulders shook with laughter.
“Where are you going?” I demanded, as I tried to follow him, only to realize his essence was dribbling down my leg. With a grimace, I reached for the tissue box.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “You can keep trying to talk me out of this while you’re wet and naked and pressed up against me, but this isn’t something you’re going to change my mind about.”
Grumbling, I threw the soiled tissues into the small trash can and then went after him.
The water was already on and steaming by the time I got there. I made sure we had clean towels and hung them on the rack.
“Were you really going to do this alone?” Slash asked as he climbed into the tiny shower.
“Yes.”
“So if I hadn’t come back to town, who was going to be in the delivery room with you? Jazz?”
“No. I was going to be there with the doctor and a nurse. But I was going to do it by myself.” I fell silent after I admitted that.
Slash turned in the shower and grasped my hips, gently maneuvering me under the warm spray. He tilted my head back and got my hair wet.
“You’re not alone anymore,” he said softly.
I opened my eyes to stare at him. “I know.”
“Would you really deny me the chance to watch my kid being born?”
“No,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t deny you that. I just…”
“Still think you’re doing this alone.” He pulled me into his arms and pressed my cheek to his wet chest.
“Are you mad?” I asked.
“Not even a little bit.”
I smiled against him. “I still don’t want you to see me pooping myself on the table.”
“If it happens, I promise never to mention it.”
Looking back so I could meet his eyes, I said, “You swear?”
“I swear.” He released me and then squirted shampoo into his hands. He lathered them together and then sank his fingers into my hair. “You don’t have any tattoos.”
“Nope.”
“Do you want any?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I lied.
“Close your eyes.”
I shut them and felt water trickle down my forehead.
As we were drying off after the shower, Slash’s cell phone rang. He wrapped the towel around his waist and sidled past me. I quickly slathered on lotion and towel-dried my hair before heading back into the bedroom. Slash was off the phone and had slipped into a pair of jeans.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his screen.
“What’s wrong?”
Slash lifted his head. “Hmm? Oh, nothing. I just have to go out of town for a few days on club business.”
I bit my lip. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“The bedroom furniture is supposed to be delivered tomorrow. I can’t be there to wait for it. I have to spend all day making a cake for the Bennington’s engagement party.”
“I can have one of the guys sign for it and make sure it’s set up. I don’t want you sleeping here without me.”
“I haven’t had time to pack,” I pointed out.
“Pack an overnight bag and crash at the new place. I’ll get a couple of the boys to help you move whatever you need.” He looked at me and stood up. “Hey. What’s wrong?”
“I thought you were going to be around so we could do the unpacking, moving-in thing together.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this for the club.”
“Yeah, I know. I can still be bummed about it though.
Disappointment washed through me. We’d established a sort of rhythm, a groove. And now he was leaving town for a few days. Yeah, I knew he was coming back, but…
I was feeling hormonal and vulnerable.
And I hated to admit it, but I didn’t want to sleep alone.
Slash brushed a kiss to my shoulder, making me burrow deeper under the covers. “I’m leaving,” he whispered.
“Where are you going?” I asked, rolling over onto my back and reaching for him.
“Coeur d’Alene. Idaho,” he clarified.
He sat on the side of the bed, and I scrambled up to hug him. “Be safe.”
“You too.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll call you when I get there. If you need anything, call one of the Old Ladies or one of the brothers.”
The previous night before bed, Slash had programmed several numbers into my phone. I had a support network even with Slash being gone.
“Blue Angels hotline?” I teased.
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
“Ooop, you’d better get out of the way.” I shot up and made it to the bathroom just in the nick of time.
When I got back to bed, Slash was still there and he was holding out a glass of orange juice and a piece of bread for me.
“I’m going to miss our morning routine,” I said after I downed the glass of orange juice and climbed back into bed.
“Oh yeah?”
“Not the puking part, but you being sweet to me.”
Slash covered me with the blanket and then bent down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll still be sweet to you even after you stop the puking part.”
“That’s nice,” I sighed, my eyes slowly drifting closed again. I heard his boots trek across the wood floor and then the soft thud of the door shutting.
I dozed for another hour, but then my natural body clock roused me. I sat up and waited to see if any more morning sickness was going to show up. When it didn’t, I climbed out of bed and went to make tea.
I didn’t dwell on the fact that Slash was gone. I had too much to do.
When I made it down to the kitchen of the bakery, Jazz was already there.
“Hey,” I said.
“Dude. Why do you have a Blue Angels biker just hanging out in the back alley?”