Layla
“Is that? … Did you? … How did you?” I stutter, not understanding what I’m seeing.
“You like it, little dove?” he asks, leaning in, his voice doing the lower-octave thing that makes my core come alive. “Myinitial is in you forever now, so I thought it was only fitting if your name was on me.”
“How did you get my signature?” I’m pretty sure my mouth is hanging open, but Sean appears to be loving every second of my reaction.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper. I take it from him. It’s the receipt I gave him at the bar the night I met him. He kept it? And got it tattooed? Onhis face?
“He’s probably had that planned out since the moment you gave him that,” Maria says, then turns to me. “And there’s no changing his mind when he has it set on something,” she adds.
I turn and look back at him. “Apparently not,” I say, but in truth, as crazy as it may seem, with his rugged features, and the look of my girly handwriting under his eye, the way he shamelessly inks my claim on him is … fuck, it’s hot as hell. I reach up, not wanting to touch it but wanting a closer look. I grasp his jaw and turn his head slightly, examining.
I blow out a breath and shake my head. “You have a big problem.”
“What?” His brows knot. “It’s an exact replica. I made sure.”
“It may be exact, but what are you gonna tell the next woman you haul into a cooler?” I joke.
Sean growls and picks me up with his hands under my ass, squeezing tight. He kisses me on the lips then whispers gruffly in my ear, “I promise you this, Layla, there isnonext woman after you. In fact, you better fucking understand that.”
“Is that so?” I ask, the butterflies in my stomach fluttering about as I let his lips trail down my throat.
“Fuck yes. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”
“Ax, got some info for you …!” Kai calls out from behind us.
Sean shakes his head.
“Ax!” Kai says again.
Sean just kisses me and ignores Kai. “Fuck it, I’ll just talk to you later!” he calls with a chuckle in between kissing me.
“Where are we going?” I ask him, smiling into his lips.
“My house.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Layla
As we cruise through Harmony, the summer night air is thick and humid. I cling to Sean and watch the lights of the town go by, and I realize that I have no idea what to expect from the home of Sean Hunter. He’s never talked about where he lives and won’t give me any sort of hint. The mystery that surrounds him makes me want to learn every last thing about him.
I’m surprised when we continue almost to the outskirts of town and we turn down Hillcrest Avenue, the main road in a century-old neighborhood lined with trees. They form a perfectly curved canopy over the road, and the houses sit far back on manicured lawns with BMWs and Audis in the driveways. We move further into the community, taking a few turns onto streets that are just as exquisite. I grew up with kids from this area. My best friend, Brinley, still owns her late parents’ home in this neighborhood. This isn’t the neighborhood where I’d expect an outlaw to live, but maybe that’s the point. We make one last turn onto Bishop Court and take it all the way to the end. There, on the curve of the street sits a lovely 1920s Craftsman home. It’s unassuming dark brown brick. The large property is wellmanicured and the driveway is wide and concrete, leading to a two-car garage behind the house. It has a window overtop with a light on, like an apartment or at the very least a room up there. We park in front of this garage, which is the same dark brick as the house, and when I get off the bike and look around I’m once again confused about this man and his Jekyll and Hyde lifestyle. The bad-boy biker who helps his fellow Vets and lives in an upper-class family neighborhood.
“Not what you expected?” Sean asks, unclipping my helmet and hanging it from his handlebars.
“Honestly? Not at all.”
“What did you expect?”
“Either … all white walls and stainless-steel furniture, or a manly cabin somewhere in the middle of nowhere.” Sean tugs on the lapels of my leather jacket and pulls me close. “I didn’t expect an upscale home in the middle of one of the nicest neighborhoods in Harmony, but I’ve resolved myself to the fact that, when it comes to you, I’ll always be a little nervous because I have no idea what to expect, Sean Hunter.”
“Good. I like you a little nervous, little dove,” he says bending down to grip my face between his broad palms. His delicious cedar and leather scent washes over me as he kisses me, my insides pooling with fire as his tongue sweeps into my mouth and meets my own.
He pulls back just short of my knees giving out and looks deep into my eyes.
“I’m nervous because this …” I motion between us. “This intense sort of feeling, a man who claims you as his own and tattoos your name on his face within days of meeting you? It just doesn’t happen in real life.”
