Chapter Fifteen #3
“Better?” she whispers.
“Getting there.”
I take my time with her.
Eventually she hooks one leg around my hip and whispers, “You’re the accountant. Figure out how many inches you can give me without making this fucking bed squeak.”
I bury my face against her neck. “Jesus Christ.”
“Shh.”
I lift my head. “You did not just shush me.”
“Thought you wanted quiet.”
“Woman.”
She smiles against my mouth.
I reach into the nightstand, find a condom, and roll it on while she watches me with that smug little smile.
“Still think you can keep quiet?” I whisper.
“Put your money where your mouth is.”
“Wrong profession.”
“Whiskey.”
I pull her leg higher over my hip and push into her slow. Her mouth opens against mine, but not a sound comes out.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
She tightens around me deliberately.
I stop dead. “That’s dirty.”
“Shh.”
The next thrust goes deeper, and she bites my shoulder to swallow the moan.
I nearly lose what little control I’ve got left. “That’s cheating too.”
Her lips brush my ear. “Shut up and fuck me.”
That filthy little order ruins me.
I give her exactly what she asked for. Slow ain’t happening anymore, but quiet still has to. Every hard thrust gets swallowed against her mouth, her fingers digging into my back while the bed gives one dangerous little creak beneath us.
We both freeze.
Nothing from the hallway.
Twila looks at me and bites her lip.
“Don’t,” I whisper.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that when I’m trying not to fuck you through the mattress.”
Her legs tighten around me. “Who said you had to try?”
Fuck me.
I kiss her before either one of us gets any louder and keep moving until her body locks around mine, her moan buried against my shoulder. I follow not long after, face pressed into her neck because apparently keeping quiet is a lot harder when Twila Dix is wrapped around my dick.
Later, the room settles around us again.
Twila lies half across my chest beneath the sheet, one warm leg tangled with mine while I run my fingers lazily through her hair. Somewhere down the hall the house creaks, then quiets.
Twila doesn’t say anything.
Too quiet.
“You asleep?”
“No.”
“Thinking?”
“No.”
“Liar.” I look down at her.
Her eyes are open, watching the ceiling. She sighs, then shifts closer until more of her body is pressed along mine. That tiny movement hits harder than it should.
She could get up right now, pull her clothes on, walk out my unlocked front door, go home, call her father, call Cal, or call a damn Uber if she wanted.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she settles closer.
“You always tuck women in?” she asks.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Jealous?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
She pinches my side.
I catch her hand and hold it.
She lets me.
Another dangerous thing.
“Whiskey?”
“Yeah?”
“What happens tomorrow?”
I hate tomorrow.
Tomorrow means the sheriff, the club, Kaylee, Pearly Gates, Mercy, and some fucked-up deer my kid claims talks to her from the woods. It means Twila eventually has to decide where she belongs in all this, and I have to keep remembering that I don’t get to decide for her.
I look at our joined hands. “Don’t know.”
“That’s surprisingly honest.”
“Usually am.”
She turns her face against my chest. “I can’t keep hiding. Cal will tell daddy I’m with you if he hasn’t already.”
“I know.”
“I can leave tonight. Go home and avoid the drama.”
“I know.”
“I probably should.”
My fingers stop moving through her hair.
“Probably.”
She lifts her head. “You’re supposed to argue.”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because if you stay, I need it to be because you want to.”
Her expression changes. “Stop doing that.”
“What?”
“Being so reasonable.”
“Ruins the big bad biker fantasy?”
“Completely.”
I grin.
She settles back against me.
A minute passes.
Then another.
I think she’s asleep when she whispers, “I want to.”
My entire chest locks.
“What?”
Nothing.
“Twila.”
Her eyes stay closed. “Go to sleep, Whiskey.”
I know better than to push. So I wrap my arm around her. She doesn’t fight it or complain or tell me I’m touching her without permission. She just fits herself against me like she’s done it before.
Like maybe she’ll do it again. And that’s when it hits me. Sex with the law ain’t the dangerous part. Neither is waking up beside a deputy when my brothers break laws for breakfast and my loyalty belongs to the Kings. Kidnapping Sheriff Dix’s daughter might not even crack the top three anymore.
Twila asleep in my bed with Wren down the hall. Her boots beside mine at the front door. Her phone charging on my nightstand. Her toothbrush sitting in my bathroom. All those little pieces of her scattered through my house like they belong here.
Like she belongs here.
Fuck.
I stare into the dark.
I’ve spent half my life priding myself on committing crimes and getting away with them, counting money, measuring risk, and knowing exactly what something costs before I put my name on it.
Twila Dix is the first thing I’ve ever wanted without really knowing what it’s gonna cost me. And judging by the blonde wrapped around me like she ain’t planning to go anywhere tonight, I’m fixing to find out.