Page 32 of Crow

“Yes, you do.” I heave out of the chair, but catch myself.

What was I doing? Going to her to do what? Assure her? Put my hands on her? Take a strand of her soft, fiery hair in between my fingers and stroke it just to feel the softness? Was I going to touch her bare arm, gliding my rough fingers over her creamy softness?

I have no backpack hiding my cock now. I swing it down off my shoulder, ostensibly to get out of my wallet, and keep it tucked in a strategic position.

“We’ll get everything,” I tell the astonished saleswomen, who both break into wide smiles of delight and begin to eagerly pack up the boxes and fold items into a massive pile.

Tarynn splutters in protest, but I’m already walking to the counter to pay. I lean up against the massive checkout hard, squashing my junk against it almost violently. It does nothing to deflate my erection. If this doesn’t stop soon, it’s going to become a medical emergency. It’s already making it hard to walk.

The front of the desk is diamond plated. The burst of pain as I lean in still does nothing to help me get the issue under control.

The astounding total for all that gear probably should do it, but nope. I just hand over my credit card. By anyone’s standards, I’d be considered wealthy. Money never did have any meaning for me. It wasn’t a desperation to survive that drove me to become a member of a bike club. You’d think that given how I hate people staring and crave solitude, that it would be the worst decision, but it offered one thing that I was never going to be able to find or make for myself.

Family.

By the time Tarynn has changed back into her own clothes, the bags and boxes are ready for her at the counter.

She’s pale, but says nothing as we exit the store. I’m carrying most of it, but she insisted on grabbing a bag for each hand. I made sure they were the light ones.

I stuff everything into the tiny trunk of the cab. It barely fits, but I do get the hatch door shut. The driver doesn’t get out or offer to help, which suits me just fine.

He’s shut the audiobook off and is ready to go.

I hold Tarynn’s door open for her, but instead of getting into the car, she throws her arms around me, hugging me tight. Just like before, I freeze, my insides going straight into panic mode, yet at the same time, being so quiet and still that it’s like I’m part of the wilderness.

“I didn’t need any of that, you crazy, wonderful man. But thank you. Thank you for what’s already been, and will be, the best experience of my life.”

Oooh, I’m falling in love with her already. Better get two rooms so she’s safe from making bad choices with either one of us.

I’d already planned on doing just that.

From the very first time I ever saw Tarynn at Patti’s—probably on her first shift ever—I asked myself what the fuck I was doing. I’m still asking myself that very same question. The answer is still the same.

I don’t know.

But I can’t keep myself from doing it.

Chapter 10

Tarynn

This room is far too fancy. It’s a suite with a jet tub in the middle of the room, a king bed, a desk, ornate nightstands with matching lamps, and a massive minibar complete with a flat screen TV above. Even the bathroom, with its separate space for a toilet, a vanity with three sinks, and a huge glass shower, is impressive.

There are brown paper bags and boxes stacked along the far wall, all from the Harley store. I keep vacillating between gratitude and horror every single time I look at them, considering how much they cost and how much the room had to have set Crow back.

He’s in the adjoining suite. Literally, all that separates us is a locked door in the wall between the two rooms.

We’re in one of the fanciest hotels on the Strip, complete with a moat that boasts actual boat rides along a manmade canal, and a painted ceiling in the lobby that would rival any European palace.

I knew it had to be expensive, but just like at the store, Crow took charge. He asked for adjoining suites and the woman at the front desk wearing the crisp black skirt suit never gave the price. She just took his ID and his credit card, and we were good to go.

I thought we were done for the night, and even though the day had been filled with far too much change, I was faced withthe crashing disappointment of having to try to sleep in a city that’s so alive it’s practically pulsing.

Crow must have known because he told me he just wanted a shower and then we could go for a walk along the Strip to find somewhere to eat.

My brain should be just about done trying to process all of this, but here I am, focused solely on how good the warm water in this fancy shower feels as it cascades down on me from above, drenching me in a rainfall the likes of what I’ve only dreamed about.

I shampoo and conditioner my hair, trying to be fast so that I have time to blow-dry it before Crow knocks on the door. Or was I supposed to knock on his?

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