Addy’s brown eyes move around the room, taking it in again. She’s going to try to keep fighting me on the sleeping arrangements. I’m not budging and that’s all there is to it. She’ll figure it out.
I’m not going to argue with her about it. Just like I’m not going to argue about me knowing that she’s mine and that I’ll be holding onto her. Forever sounds like it might be long enough, but I fucking doubt it.
Why argue with the woman when I’m just going to show her? It’ll be easier anyway. I already know she has a stubborn streak which is going to keep me on my toes.
Maybe Anchor can get me a tracker for her. Something to think about for sure.
When I open my door, her bag is sitting there with her key on top. I grab them and then stride across the room to my dresser, putting her bag down on top of it.
“I’m glad I went ahead and packed all my skincare stuff. I never feel clean if I don’t do the whole routine,” she chatters while reaching for her bag.
I grip her hands and she looks up at me, startled. “You’re sleeping in my shirt tonight, Tempest.”
Her eyebrows pull together and it’s damn cute. “But I have pajamas in my bag?”
“I figured, but you’ll still be sleeping in my shirt tonight. My shirt. My bed. That’s just how it is, Addyson.”
She stares up at me, studying me in a way that has me standing taller. I’m going to pass every single one of her tests because there isn’t another option. Letting her go isn’t happening.
I don’t look away from her as I slide my cut off and put it on the dresser before reaching back and pulling my t-shirt off, the fabric the only thing that cuts our connection but for less than a second. “You do have a choice here,” the words rumble out of my chest as I hold my shirt out for her.
With an arched eyebrow, her words drip with challenge, “Oh? And what is the choice here? You’ve said I’m sleeping in your shirt, the one you just pulled off.” She swallows hard and waves her hand like the situation is a gnat and not my shirtless chest. Again, cute. “That’s not the point.”
I step closer, unable to help myself. “I think it might be the point.”
She eyes my chest, taking in the tattoos she can see on my arm and wrapping around my ribs. When she licks her lips, I have to bite back a groan.
“I’m pretty sure you’re a side quest that doesn’t end well,” she mutters the words, but they sound like lies.
“No, Tempest, that’s not what I am.”
She looks at me and then I see it—the fear. It’s not the same fear as when I first met her, when she was running from danger and right into my arms, without even knowing it. No, this is fear for herself, for her heart.
What she doesn’t know and can’t trust, not yet at least, is that I’ll protect her heart just as fiercely as I’ll protect her life.
“Would you rather,” my voice is curious, teasing, “take my shirt and put it on in the bathroom or would you like me to undress you and then slip my shirt down over your body.”
Addyson rears back, her face wide with surprise and then she smiles. But it gets better. She laughs.
I watch her, lapping up the sound of her joy.
“Thanks,” she wheezes slightly, “I needed to laugh.”
She blindly reaches out to pat my chest. The moment she touches me, everything freezes. Her eyes snap up to mine and then I’m crowding her.
“I wasn’t kidding. You choose Addy.”
Just when I think she’s going to step around me and take my shirt into the bathroom, which I pointed out when I gave it to her as an option, she squares her shoulders. Her arms go up and she looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe I’ll follow through.
But I’m the fucking president of a motorcycle club.
There’s no way I’m backing down or out.
As she stares at me, I almost back out.
Then my hands shoot out and I grip the hem of her pink sweater. It’s up and off in moments. The sight of her tits encased in pink satin has my knees going weak.
“Fucking hell,” I growl, the words low and full of warning.
