Chapter 9 #4
“There,” he says, voice wrecked. “Fuck, baby, right there?”
I nod because words are gone.
“No.” His hips slow just enough to make me desperate. “Use that mouth you love weaponizing.”
I bite his shoulder. “There. Right there. Do not you dare stop.”
He groans, savage and satisfied, and gives it to me.
That should not be the thing that breaks me.
It is.
I come with my mouth open against his shoulder, biting down to keep from screaming loud enough for every rich neighbor in the tower to learn my business.
Pleasure tears through me hot and hard, dragging every ugly thing behind it for one bright second.
I am not tied to a chair. I am not a rumor.
I am not a rose. I am a woman coming apart because I chose the man inside me, and he listened when I told him how.
Shady follows after, rough and shaking, my name torn out of him like a confession, his face buried against my throat like even coming apart has to be done where he can feel my pulse.
For a while, there is only our rough breathing.
His weight is careful over me. His hand moves to my hair, then stops like he remembers he does not get automatic tenderness.
I hate that.
I also love it.
I touch his wrist and place his hand against my cheek.
His eyes close.
That almost hurts more than everything else. For one fragile second, I believe we might survive ourselves.
Then my phone buzzes on the nightstand.
The sound slices the room open.
My body goes cold so fast he feels it.
He lifts his head. “Lady.”
I reach for the phone before he can stop me.
Another anonymous account.
Another comment under my post.
He chose Cherry first.
Then another notification. A gossip page reposting the hallway image again with a poll.
DID LADY NYX SETTLE FOR A CRIMINAL?
Then the comments.
Why did she think a low-life biker would be faithful?
My stomach turns.
All the heat drains out of my skin.
Shady sees my face and reaches for the phone. He sees the post.
I pull it back.
“No.”
His hand freezes.
I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. I feel naked in a way sex did not make me. Sex was choice. This is exposure. This is Carmen in my bedroom without needing a key.
“Baby,” he says carefully.
“Don’t.”
He sits up too. “Look at me.”
I do.
That is the problem.
He is here. Warm. Sexy. Still inside the room where I just let him back into my body before I knew whether my heart could survive it.
My eyes burn, and I hate that he sees.
“I gave in too fast.”
His face changes. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Lady. What happened here was ours. Not theirs.”
“Don’t tell me what it was.”
He shuts his mouth.
The silence stretches. This one is different from the old kind. He is not hiding. He is waiting.
It should help. It does not help enough.
I slide out of bed, taking the sheet with me. My legs are unsteady. I hate that too. I grab my robe from the floor and pull it on with my back to him.
“Lady.”
“You sleep on the couch.”
The words come out cold.
Too cold.
He takes them like a punch.
“Okay.”
That makes me angrier.
“Don’t okay me like you’re winning points.”
“I’m not winning shit tonight.”
“No, you’re not.”
“What’s the deal? I thought we made up? You’re going to let rumors and posts ruin this?”
“It’s my career, Shady.”
“You care what people think?”
“You do not have to care what people think. Your reputation gets you feared. Mine gets me paid.”
“Why? Because I’m a criminal?”
“Do you care about being one?”
“Do you think I’m one?”
“Aren’t you an outlaw,” I say, before I can stop myself. “It’s a synonym.”
The second it leaves my mouth, I know I did not ask a question. I threw shame at him because mine was too heavy to hold alone.
He gets out of bed, pulls on his jeans, and leaves his shirt on the floor because the man apparently cannot suffer fully clothed. His face is closed down, but not the old way. Not hiding. Holding.
At the bedroom door, he stops.
“I’ll leave you alone.”
“Okay.”
“But there are prospects downstairs.”
I whirl. “Excuse me?”
His jaw tightens. “Not in your apartment. Not at your door. Downstairs. Building garage and lobby.”
“Still?”
“Yeah, still. You can hate me for it later, but after roses at Eclipse, Carmen texting, and whatever the fuck is going on, I’m not leaving your perimeter empty. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
I stare at him.
He stares back.
“Who?” I ask.
“Finn and Dusty.”
“Dusty talks too much.”
“I told him if he runs his mouth, I’ll duct tape him to his bike.”
My mouth twitches before I can stop it.
His eyes catch it.
Don’t.
Don’t soften.
I lift my chin. “Fine. Lobby and garage. No hallway. No elevator. No one speaks to me unless I speak first.”
“Yeah. Got it. Lobby and garage. I ain’t sending anybody higher unless you say.”
“And you’re leaving.”
“Yes.”
He looks down at his bare chest, then back at me. “I’ll find my shirt.”
“Do that.”
He nods and steps out. “I’ll see myself out.”
I close the bedroom door between us.
Then I lean back against it, press my hand to my mouth, and try not to cry over a biker who finally told me the truth after the lies already ruined us.