“That ain’t gonna stop me,” he said, hands already going to my shoulders and neck, working out the tension that had been growing there all day. Later, after I got home, showered, and changed into something comfy, he would pull my feet over his legs and massage my aching feet too.
“There have been no threats,” I reminded him even as I melted into his chest.
“Not taking any chances.”
I had a tiny little scar on my leg from being dragged by Cameron. I still caught Perish staring at or stroking it with a murderous look on his face. Meanwhile, the guy had three new bullet wound scars that he never paid any mind to.
As much as my mom and aunts raised me to be able to take care of myself, some intrinsic part of me really loved Perish’s protectiveness.
A guy cursed me out in traffic once, and I’d been worried I’d be trying to bail him out of jail.
“How’s it going in there?”
“Good. Everyone’s grinding on the dance floor right now. Then it’s just cake, drinking, and seeing the happy couple off.”
“Where are they going on their honeymoon?”
“A cruise.” Perish made a weird gurgling sound. “What?”
“Spending your honeymoon locked up with thousands of other people? No thanks.”
I liked cruises.
But I was apt to agree.
“So, what’s the best honeymoon locale then?”
“An over-water villa. Private ski cabin. Private island rental. Somewhere private. Where we don’t have to worry about people hearing you cry out for more of my cock,” he added, his hands sinking down to grab my ass.
“Don’t start something we can’t finish,” I grumbled. “But I agree. We don’t get much privacy.”
My neighbors knocked on the wall if we got too loud.
“Speaking of that, I was thinking about getting a place.”
“Really?” I asked, pulling back to look at him. “Since when?”
“Since the first night the neighbors got their celibate panties in a wad. But I started looking at places while you were dealing with that bride from hell.”
“You’ve been keeping secrets from me?” I asked in faux outrage.
“Didn’t wanna split your focus. But now that this one is done, figured maybe we could go look at some places. Found one with one of those finished sheds out back that can be used as a home office.”
“And let me guess: a nice yard for you to fuss over?”
“It’s in bad fucking shape.”
“But that’s your favorite. A project.”
“That’s true.”
“Well, whatever place it ends up being, the local birds and squirrels are going to have it made.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Tell me when, and I’ll set up a viewing.”
“Tomorrow. Let’s go tomorrow.”
We’d been pretty much living together since he healed from his gunshot wounds. But my apartment was not meant for a man his size. Everything felt cramped and doll-sized. It would be nice to have a bigger, more private place.
