43. Kelsey
Kelsey
One Week Later
At the time, the decision to have him crash at her place was logical. Kelsey couldn’t let Kev stay in a hotel. Who would watch over him? While Janell said he wasn’t that bad, she still suggested he had a concussion. Not to mention, he’d been stabbed.
Oh, and let’s not forget, he’d killed people. For Kelsey. That was a hard fact she had trouble swallowing. Kevlar was capable of horrendous violence, but with her, he was nothing but gentle and apparently made of steel.
The guy had taken a knife and a bullet to get Kelsey out of the bowels of hell. The least she could do was invite him to stay with her while he healed. His stitches were out, and his headaches were all but gone, which meant he had no reason to stick around.
Would he? What was in it for him? What would he do?
Protect her from her nightmares? He’d done a damn good job each night she woke up in cold sweats screaming as what she witnessed and experienced replayed in her sleep.
The therapy he forced her into would help, eventually. She’d continue going to make it stop and keep him happy. Having a bodyguard sleeping beside her did more than talking, but she’d have to try.
For a big, tough, badass biker, he showed her tenderness, understanding, and compassion. She didn’t know men like him were capable of such things. Kev was a walking contradiction.
Fresh out of the shower, wearing a towel around her head and a robe about her body, she redressed his wounds.
“Looks like you’re healing nicely,” she commented. Not that she had any sort of medical training, but the wound wasn’t oozing pus, so she took that as a good sign.
He glanced at the bandage as she taped it down. “Yeah. I’m headed out on my bike this afternoon.”
“Oh?” That was a surprise. He’d been under strict advisement not to ride for six weeks because of his injury. Apparently, it could aggravate his head or something. Kelsey didn’t understand, but she wasn’t about to second-guess the medical advice of those who knew better.
“Yeah. Kid and I are going to check out a space for our new clubhouse,” he said.
She nodded. Clubhouse. That was what Carrie had called the hellhole where they’d been assaulted. Fighting the urge to cringe as the images of Carrie on the pool table flashed in her mind, Kelsey exhaled a heavy breath.
She wasn’t there.
They were in her apartment.
Kev was with her.
Everyone was safe.
Pete was gone.
“You want to come with me?” he asked.
She peered up at him. “Me?”
Who else would he be asking? They were alone. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
He nodded. “You’re my old lady. I figured you could help decorate it.”
A laugh bubbled up in her chest as she peered at him. “Your what?”
He took hold of her face and brought her closer to him. “My old lady.”
She continued to giggle. “Who are you calling old? I’m only twenty-seven. You remember that, right?”
“So what?” His lips brushed against hers when he spoke in a barely audible whisper.
It made her entire body tingle with anticipation.
Considering his injuries and her experience, they hadn’t been intimate in a while.
She wasn’t sure he was ready, or she was, for that matter, but damn, did she want to be. She’d have to run it by the therapist.
“I don’t know what that means,” she admitted breathily.
He grinned. “Mine, Kitten,” he explained. “It means, if you’ll have me, you’ll be mine, and I’ll be yours. No one in my club will lay a finger on you, and they will protect you with their lives. You’ll be my queen.”
“Why does this sound like a proposal?” She laughed nervously.
He hummed as he offered gentle but brief kisses. “It kind of is.”
Startled, her eyes widened, and she pushed off him to get a better look at his face. “What?”
“It’s not a ring or anything. Not legally binding,” he said with a shrug, his hands resting on her hips. “But in my world, it might as well be.”
Her mouth fell open. A variety of sounds left her as she stammered, attempting to wrap her brain around what he’d said. “Are you asking us to be officially dating or something like that?”
“Yeah,” he said on a chuckle before dipping his head down and kissing her neck. “Something like that. You’re my old lady, and I’m your old man. Committed. No one else. What do you say?”
“You’re crazy.” She laughed. This was insane. They barely knew each other. “You haven’t even told me your real name.”
“Weston,” he said without hesitation. “Weston Hubert Oberlin.”
“Hubert?” She gasped. Who looked at a baby and picked Hubert?
He rolled his eyes with a grin. “Family name.”
Blinking rapidly, she wasn’t sure she could digest all of this. “Well. Nice to meet you, Weston Hubert Oberlin.”
As his name left her tongue, she considered it. She’d never met a Weston before. Studying him, she cocked her head to the side. It suited him. Weston. An original name for an original man.
“I like it,” she said. “It’s better than Kevlar.”
He shrugged. “If you say so. One means I’m bulletproof. The other is just something my parents picked when they were stoned.”
“Does anyone call you Weston anymore?” she asked.
“My sisters.”
And now her. “Can I?”
He pursed his lips as though contemplating her request. His arms tightened around her, and her heart fluttered.
“Depends,” he teased as he kissed along her jawline.
“On?”
“Will you be my old lady?”
Was that really a question? “I thought you said I already was.”
“Only if you agree. I can’t make the decision by myself. I need your consent.”
“Hmm.” She tapped a finger against her chin as his tongue flicked against her ear.
Her pussy clenched. She bit her lower lip. He wasn’t playing fair. Being coy when he was so damn tempting was difficult.
“Answer, Kitten, or I’ll stop.”
The fuck he would. “Yes.”