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His lack of reluctance shoots my eyebrows into the air. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“Nope.”

“Shouldn’t you?!”

“Why?” An innocent shrug bounces his shoulders. “What’s there to think about? You’re mine. I’m yours. End of story.”

“A very short story,” playfully leaves my lips.

“The only thing short about me, Teach.”

Not moaning is difficult; however, not impossible. “If you’re this…into me…us-”

“I am.”

“Then why did you haunt me?”

“Ghost,” he casually corrects at the same time one boot covered ankle crosses over the other. “And I didn’t fucking ghost you, Emmerz.”

“What do you call it then?”

“What’s there to call?”

“You barely talked to me!”

“I was busy.”

“Busy doing what?! Other women?!”

The dark glare I’m thrown is filled with deep displeasure.

Oof.

Not sure which is worse.

That look or the shade of jealousy I’m now displaying.

“Never,” is practically growled, “accuse me of not being fucking loyal to you.”

My lips immediately press together to maintain my silence.

“Me not having a shit ton of time to text or call or fuckin’ come by wasn’t because my dick found somewhere else to be, Emaline. It was because the club needed me and so did my nine to five.”

Keeping quiet continues.

“My ass wasn’t gettin’ sleep, fuck, time to find or charge my fuckin’ phone.” Another shrug is executed. “My phone wasn’t a priority, but jus’ ‘cause it wasn’t doesn’t mean you weren’t.”

Guilt lands heavily on my shoulders.

“It doesn’t mean I wasn’t fucking thinking about you or dreaming about you or wishing and wanting to be where you were instead of nuts deep in net profit predictions and making sure Rugrats didn’t fuck up shit for the nomad’s shindig.”

The weight of shame increases.

“Me not texting didn’t mean you were a fuck and forget, Teach.”

“That’s how it felt,” I quietly mutter. “Like you said all the shit you needed to say to get the lay and then poof. You were done.”

He slowly shakes his head prior to purring, “I will never be done with you.”