Page 82 of The Devil's Redemption

“Signing that lease with you tomorrow.” He reaches over and takes my hand in his. “But more than that, I’m excited to officially live under the same roof as my girl.”

All of my nerves ease the moment the words leave his lips, and I see the glimmer of anticipation in his gray eyes.

“Same here.”

I smile as butterflies go berserk in my stomach. It’s crazy where we ended up. If someone would have told me two years ago that I would be shacking up with the scary man with the dark eyes from behind the diner, I would have said they were nuts. But here we are… And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

* * *

Racing along the back roads with the wind in my hair and my arms wrapped tightly around the man I love is exhilarating. Blade was absolutely correct when he told me I was going to love riding on the back of his bike. It’s a new sensation, but one that feels like a close cousin of an orgasm.

Cruising down streets that I’ve driven my whole life is an entirely new experience from the back of the bike. A completely different perspective. Everything is clearer, as though the windows I’m used to seeing it through were dirty, not allowing me to take in and appreciate the full beauty of Whispering Valley.

Remind me again why I ever wanted to leave this place?

“This is amazing!” I scream as I hug Blade tighter.

I don’t need to, I’m not scared. I’m not at risk of falling off. But I’m thoroughly exhilarated, and I need to hold onto something to get a grip on reality once again.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” Blade shouts back at me. “Iron’s house isn’t too much farther.”

We travel a little while longer down Maple Grove Road then pull off in front of a modest, bungalow-style house.

“Okay, you can either shimmy on back and hold onto the seat to keep you from falling off the end, or you can fall to one side, let your foot catch you, and swing your opposite leg over the bike.”

“Um, ’scuse you, but I’ve seen enough lowrider, badass biker dude, Sons of Anarchy wannabe television shows to know how to perfectly dismount a bike, okay?”

“Please don’t tell me you watch that crap.”

“What crap?” I ask as I swing my leg over the side of his bike.

“Sons of Anarchy… That show glorifies the 1-percenter culture. They got it all wrong.”

“Oooh, someone issensitive.”

“I’m just saying that Hollywood gets a lot of shit wrong, okay?” He throws his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, mister big, badass, real-life biker man.”

He pulls me in for a hug before removing my helmet and placing it on the handlebar opposite of his. He cups my cheek in his palm, and with his other hand, he reaches down and grabs a handful of my ass.

“Mmm…” he grunts. “I fucking love this ass, you know that.”

“Yes. My ass knows how much you love it.”

Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, I turn around and walk to Iron’s front door. I press the doorbell, but Blade reaches around me and opens the door before Iron has a chance to.

“I grew up here, remember? I don’t need to ring the doorbell or wait for a special invitation to enter.”

“What?” I gasp in mock horror. “You mean you’renota vampire?”

“Hmm, no. Sorry. But I’m not against helping you act out that fantasy if that’s what you’re in to.”

He bites down on his bottom lip before he throws the door open.

“After you,” he guides me, waving his hand over the threshold into the house.”

Stepping inside of Iron’s home, I would never think that an outlaw lived here. It’s farmhouse-chic at its finest, and it looks like they hired Ree Drummond as their interior decorator. I love everything about it.

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