And in less than two seconds, Skip is standing in front of me again, breath harsh, knuckles bloody, eyes locked on mine.
His hands land on my shoulders, but I’m stiff as a board.
I can’t help it. My body’s buzzing with embarrassment, fear, confusion, and that awful echo of Mike’s words.
“Hey,” Skip says softly, tilting my chin up with two fingers. “Look at me, pretty boy.”
I do. Slowly.
His eyes aren’t angry anymore. Not violent. Not wild. Just… soft and focused.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over my jaw. “You think I give a fuck what those idiots said about my past?”
I swallow hard. “I just… I didn’t know. About the people in your bed. I slept there. And… what if I’m not good enough? What if…”
“No.” His tone darkens. “No ‘what if.’ No comparing yourself to anyone who came before you.”
“I’m not comparing,” I lie, voice cracking. “It’s just—”
“Eli.”
He leans in until our foreheads touch. Until his breath mingles with mine.
“My past is my past for a damn reason. It’s over. Done. Buried. And not one single person from it means a fucking thing to me now.”
My chest trembles. I feel so freaking vulnerable, and I don’t understand why. Am I truly starving for affection this much?
“Listen to me, pretty boy.” His hands slide from my jaw to my shoulders, grounding me. “My future? All of it? Every damn bit of it? It’s pointed at you. No one else. I don’t want anyone else.”
A tear slips down my cheek. He catches it with his thumb, and I want nothing more than to run away and hide.
“You are the first person I’ve ever wanted a future with,” he murmurs. “No one is going to fuck with that. And if I have to beat the shit out of half this damn club plus Maverick’s crew to make that clear, I will.”
“But…the bed.”
“I’ll fucking burn it and get us a new one,” he says, sending a look at one of the guards who turns to leave.
“The Prospect will have our new bed installed before tomorrow morning,” he says.
A tiny, painful laugh escapes me. He smiles.
“Come here,” he whispers, opening his arms.
I don’t melt. I freakingcollapseright into his chest.
Skip holds me like I’m breakable and precious in the same breath.
One big hand on the back of my head. The other wrapped around my waist.
He murmurs into my hair, “My future is you, Eli. I’m not letting you run just because someone with half a brain said something stupid.”
His chest rises under my cheek as he lets out a slow breath, the kind that feels like it’s meant to pull me in closer.
“I’m sorry I’m being such a wuss,” I mumble, heat flushing up my neck. “I swear I’m not normally this emotional.”
Skip huffs a quiet laugh, low and warm.
“You’ve gone through a hell of a lot these past few weeks,” he murmurs.
