It was my biggest shame, but my only saving grace is that Troy’s parents never spoke of it. No one knew about it. It was all swept under the table as he got a hefty early inheritance. He moved away after that, to college and then, I guess, into teaching. I actually hadn’t seen him for close to fifteen years till it was announced that he was moving back home to take the principal job at the school.
All my friends knew was that he was one of the kids I grew up with, and he married my biggest bully. They worried about me with him because of her, not because of what happened between us. They probably would never have thought in a million years we would have been together. Sometimes I question it, too, as it sounds like a fairy tale gone wrong.
I shake those thoughts out of my head. Now is not the time to be thinking about that. Hell, maybe never. Not when I have Reese. And damn if I’m ever going to let him go.
When we get to my place, I don’t even question it, just get off the bike and head for the door, knowing he’ll follow as I undo the strap of the helmet as I walk. We’ve reached that point in our relationship—because we have one—that I just know things. Not a lot, but I’m certain he’s not going to the clubhouse. Not tonight, anyway.
I place the helmet on the kitchen table at the same time I hear the door shut and the lock engage. I feel his arms around me a second before he kisses my forehead.
“Going to check the house.”
I nod as I watch him walk down the hall. Not sure why I’m not freaking out about him always wanting to check to see if my place is safe—it’s just another thing I’m accepting, I guess.
I woke up this morning, hating it more than usual, because there wasn’t a note. No breakfast waiting, not a warm spot in the bed next to me. One night. One night and he ruined me. And that’s when I realized I need to accept what this is between us. That I want it just as much as he does. Which is why I didn’t press too much when he wanted to kiss me at school or have dinner with me. I just need to accept that the man is going to do what he wants, and he wants me. The quicker I get on board, the easier I’ll breathe.
My fears from before all this started haven’t come. I’m not thinking he’s looking at me only to pass his time. I’m not some dirty little secret he’s hiding from his friends. Hell, he introduced me to his dad after our first date—yes, I’m totally counting pizza and game shows at my place as a date. I tell my students every day to take a chance on life, to step outside their comfort zone and embrace change and try new things. Guess I’m finally taking my own advice. Because as I make my way to my bedroom, fear is the last thing I feel. Anxious, yes, but in a good way.
“Babe, when I say I’m going to check the house, it means I need you to stay where you are till I say it’s all clear.”
Why is it such a turn-on that he wants to make sure I’m safe and protected? Zero people are after me. I live next to the nosiest people ever who also happen to be my parents. My life isn’t all rainbows, but it’s not doom and gloom either. I have nothing to fear.
Except maybe him breaking my heart.
But as I tilt my head and look him over, I don’t see it. Not sure if I ever saw him as the type to just wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am it, even if I told myself he was like that. I’d judged him. Forced him into a box, thinking he would be like the others. That he would be worse than Troy. Maybe it was because a part of me recognized that, in the end, this man could hurt me worse than I’ve ever been hurt before. Maybe that was why I feared everything and pushed him away and refused to let my crush grow.
But that was then. Things have changed. Maybe it’s too soon; maybe it’s not soon enough. All I know is that I’m tired of letting the fear win out.
“Are we good?” I step closer to him.
My bedroom is at the end of the lone hall in my small house, and that’s where I found him, by the windows. Checking the lock and looking sexy. I never liked coming home to an empty house, so I have timers on a lot of lights to create a soft glow. But in the bedroom, I have candles with timers. I like the look of a flickering candle, though I have a small fear of burning the place down. Once I learned that there were battery-operated fake candles, I almost drained the company of their inventory with how much I bought.
“Yeah, we’re good.” The candles flicker, casting a glow over Reese as he looks out the window once more before closing the blinds.
I can’t help but take him all the way in, from his shitkicker boots up his jeans that seem to mold to his ass. His white tee is snug on him. Not because he bought it a size too small but because he has the muscles to fill it out. His Hounds vest just adds to his sex appeal, to the danger that any girl would find appealing. I know how many tats he has, even if I can’t see them all. I’ve touched them, but I haven’t licked them. Something I want to do. Something I yearn for. Especially the one on his throat. It calls to me. He hasn’t shaved his face since the mud run, and I shiver with the need to feel the burn of his whiskers against the inside of my thighs. My fingers tingle with the urge to pull at his hair, to run my nails through the close chop at the sides of his head.
“You keep looking at me like that, darlin’, and I might think you actually like me.” He smirks, then quickly drops it when I don’t smile back but step into his space.
“I’m sorry.”
He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “For what?”
“For not telling you. For not showing you.”
He cocks his head, and his eyebrows pinch together. He doesn’t get it. But he will.
I don’t have to stand on my tiptoes, but I do so I’m equal in height. I take a page out of his playbook and don’t ask, just take his lips.
Not sure if it’s because it’s the first time I’ve initiated it, but he hesitates. Which is fine, as I have no problem taking the lead.
I lick his lips, and he opens them at the same time he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to him. He doesn’t fight for dominance, just lets me explore as he enjoys the ride, based on the groan he releases.
I pull back, just enough space to talk without my lips touching him. “I like you. I really like you.”
I must sound like a teenager with how well I’m expressing myself. I’m an adult. I should be able to put more than four words together to explain how he’s turned my world upside down and I freaking love it. How he makes me smile when he isn’t around, and how each time he sees me and doesn’t hide his attraction to me, it makes me feel like the happiest being in the entire universe. But the words get trapped on my tongue, and I’m reduced to just the simplest of thoughts when I’m in his arms.
He gives me half a second to speak, but no more. Not another moment passes to let doubt in before he takes my mouth in his as he bends a bit to grab my ass, picking me up easily. I wrap my legs and arms around him and devour his mouth with mine.
I feel us move but don’t care where he’s taking me, as long as we’re together. I’m sure later I’ll remember what it feels to be in his arms. To not have my feet touch the ground as he easily moves around the room. How his muscles ripple beneath my fingers and how he doesn’t even pant at the weight of me. Then again, I have seen him lift at the gym. Compared to what he usually deadlifts, I’m like a bee, and I absolutely love that.
