Page 50 of Heartbeats & Highways

I sighed. “Well, for example, my job.”

“You don’t like your job at Three Kings?”

“It’s not that. It’s just . . . it doesn’t feel like it matters? I’m doing this thing that occupies my time. I take home a paycheck. But it doesn’t feel like I’m actuallydoinganything. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s the hamster on the wheel.” Savage pressed a kiss to my head. “Every day looks the same. You run and run, but no matter what you do you don’t feel like you’re getting anywhere.”

“Yes, exactly. On the farm you feed your chickens, then the next day you gather eggs. You plant a garden and then you harvest it and eat what you grew. You keep bees and they give you honey. It’sreal.”

“You had bees?”

I nodded. “We had this garden that wasn’t for planting. It was full of wildflowers for butterflies and bees to feed from and pollinate. It was my favorite spot, actually.” I looked at him and gave him a wry smile. “Like I said, I’m not sure how I feel about city life just yet.”

We fell into companionable silence until he spoke again.

“You really don’t want a tattoo?” he asked, his gaze languid.

“I really don’t.”

“You’d look good with a tattoo here.” He traced the knobs of my spine.

“But I’d never be able to see it,” I remarked.

His grin was devilish. “But I would.”

“How would—oh.”

Savage laughed and wrapped me in his arms, pulling me on top of him. “Think about it.”

“Oh, I am.”

He shifted his thigh so that it pressed between my legs. “I’m dying to be inside you again.”

“Next time, bring more condoms.”

“Tonight. I’ll bring a mega-box, and we’ll see how many we can get through.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Those girls were right. Youarean animal in bed.” My teasing smile dimmed when he didn’t smile back. “Savage?”

“I’m sorry about them,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s fine, Savage. I won in the end, didn’t I?” I touched his furrowed brow with my fingers. “I got you in my bed and I’m keeping you.”

“You’re keeping me?” he asked, a slow smile sliding across his lips.

“Yep. You’re mine.” I leaned down and gently bit his nipple.

He sucked in a breath. “I think I’m going to like being kept.”

“You got laid,” Virgil said as I set my purse on the counter of the tattoo parlor.

“Excuse me?” I squawked.

“Yeah, you totally got laid,” he said again. “Your eyes are bloodshot, your cheeks are flushed, and you’ve got whisker burn on your neck. I’m totally right. Right?”

“Even if I did get laid—which I’m not saying I did—do you really think I’d talk about my private life with you?”

“I’ve never been more convinced that I’m right,” he said.

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