I drop my hand away, running my gaze up and down her body before walking toward the hall that’ll lead us to the gym.
“Come.”
My stomach jumps giddily when I hear her feet pattering as she listens.
After showing Greer the gym and the door she’s not advised to go near, I left her to get ready. I didn’t give her much info on wherewe’re going. I only told her to dress for a night out, but not so provocatively that I’d have to kill anyone.
After clearing up some work that needed to be done before we left, I’m waiting at the table, tapping my finger synchronously with the grandfather clock to my left.
My eyes wander through the sliding glass doors, constantly scanning for a threat, even though I dwell well off the beaten path.
Her footsteps alert me to her presence, and my eyes swing over to find her walking through the archway leading into the dining room.
Her face is fresh, with only the barest lip stain. Per my insistence, her hair isn’t braided. Her jeans are faded, ripped, and so tight on her delicate curves.
“Fuck, poison. You’re out for blood tonight.”
“You think so? I don’t have much in that bag I brought, so options were limited.”
“I’ll remedy that.” Standing, my eyes scan over the low-cut black shirt she has tucked into her jeans, matching her black boots that round out her outfit.
“Do I even want to know what that means?”
“You’re mine.”
“As you’ve told me over and over.”
“You need clothes; I’ll provide.”
“I don’t needclothes.I needmyclothes.”
“Turn around.” I deadpan at her, giving her no room for argument.
She gapes but does as she’s told.
Her obedience trickles through my veins like warm whiskey, leaving a fluttering comber in its wake.
Working my fingers through her hair, I begin to braid it.
“But you said,” she starts, and I yank her head back to my chest, holding tight to the braid lest I ruin it.
“None of your sass tonight.”
Her eyes take me in from upside down. “I was only pointing out that you said I couldn’t braid it. Remember the whole ‘no’caveman thing you did before?”
I try my best not to smirk. “Where we’re going and how we’re getting there require it.”
“Oh.”
She allows me to finish the braid in peace, and I’m able to grab her helmet before handing it to her.
“This is yours.”
Her full-face, pink helmet with two horns at the top fits her perfectly. I know it does because I’ve had it on her before.
“Thanks.” She clears her throat, gripping the helmet awkwardly.
I lead her to the bike once Bear does his business and the cabin is secured. My Honda Super Cub is my favorite purchase, but when blending, I know I can’t take it out.
