“Mm...” I mumble, still sleepy, but then remember where he’s been. “Is Rage okay?”
“He’s fine, and he won. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.”
And I do just that.
ELEVEN
I NEED HIM
Ava
At lunch time, Reaper and I leave to go on our first date. As we walk into the restaurant, the hum of voices hushes when we step inside. I feel everyone’s eyes on us. I survey the room, and I’m correct. This is a beach town, and everyone is dressed casually, like they have just walked in from the shore. I straighten my boho dress.
“I’ll be back,” I say to Reaper, pointing to the restroom sign. I walk in, hoping that by the time I return everyone will be back to their conversations. While I wash my hands, I glance at my face and smile stupidly at the state of my hair from the motorcycle ride. I pat down my hair.
A couple of months ago, if someone told me that my new favorite hobby would be on the back of a motorcycle, that my best friend would be a dog, that I would be close to my sister again, and that I would be dating a sexy biker, I would have laughed in their face and told them they were crazy. Yet here I am.
I hook my bag strap over my shoulder and walk out. I have to walk slowly because of the two men, who came from the men’s restroom, staggering in front of me. They are very intoxicated. When they take a seat, I can see better, so I scan for Reaper. When I see him, I move toward him until a leg comes out in front of me, making me stop.
“Aren’t you something?” the man slurs.
They look young—maybe midtwenties. The speaker’s glassy eyes slowly travel up and down my body.
I stiffen at first, but then a burn of annoyance makes me glare at him. “Can you move your foot... please?” I try to be polite, but there’s a distinct edge in my tone.
He chuckles and looks at his friend. “She’s got manners too.”
“Have we got a problem here?” Reaper growls.
The place quietens, and I feel eyes on us. Both drunk men gawk at Reaper with wide eyes, then sink into their seats. The man with his leg out moves it, allowing me access.
“No, no problem,” they repeat, shaking their heads.
Reaper’s gaze warms when he glances at me. His eyes study my face as if to see whether I’m in any distress.
“Were they harassing you?” He’s eerily calm, but I sense it’s a front.
The men peer up at me with big doe eyes, like they’re silently praying I say no.
“They were rude,” I say to Reaper, then glance back at them. “But they were just going to apologize. Weren’t you?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry, ma’am,” one says, then the other.
“We are very sorry.” The man looks up at Reaper. “We didn’t know she was yours.”
I glower at them with a twisted scowl. That saying does not sit right with me. I’m not property, but... I am his, and he is mine.
Reaper’s eyes are on me, and he’s watching me closely, so I stand straighter. “Well, I am,” I say boldly. “So watch what you say when you’re speaking to a lady. You just don’t know who her partner is.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they say in unison.
I give them a sharp nod, feeling empowered by the interaction, and when I step over to Reaper, he gazes at me with a devastating smile on his face. As we move to our table, the two men leave. When Reaper and I take a seat, his eyes roam the top half of my body. When his eyes return to mine, the heat of his gaze makes my insides coil.
“That dress...” he says, shaking his head with the hint of a smirk. “You look unbelievably sexy.”
I glance down at the dress and smile. I wore it because I wanted to look as good as I feel. My eyes scan the restaurant. I’m gladmostpeople aren’t paying attention to us anymore. He passes me a menu, and I skim it. Once I’ve made my decision, I look around.
“It’s nice here.”
