Page 48 of Wild Night

He smirks then shakes his head. His lips twitch as if he’s going to say something, but then he presses them together, no doubt deciding against it. Maybe it’s because my face is conveying the amount of stress and trauma I’m feeling right now, or maybe it’s more along the lines of he’s waiting until the right time. I’m not sure, but I’m glad he chooses not to say whatever it is.

“The master bedroom is yours. I’m going to take the couch for now.”

“The couch?” I ask. “Why?”

He smirks as his gaze searches mine, almost laughingly. He’s really cute. Tall, wearing blue jeans that look like they were made for him, and he’s worn them to the point that they are molded to his body. Thick thighs, trim hips, wide shoulders, and arms the size of cannons.

In other words—hot.

“The only exterior doors are right here. The front, the back, and the garage. I can see them all.”

Well then. “Do you think that someone is going to try to come in here?” I ask, looking around. I can’t help but wonder what he’s anticipating because I was under the impression that we were all good.

Like, really good.

Pressing my lips together, I wait for his response, and he clears his throat. “I don’t, but it’s natural instinct. I’m in charge of your well-being. I’m going to ensure your safety.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

“Go and get settled. I don’t cook, so we can either do a grocery order or takeout.”

The thought of cooking tonight makes me want to burst into tears, and honestly, I’ve cried enough today to last me a whole lifetime.

“Takeout,” I state quickly.

He chuckles. “You like pizza?”

I almost moan as I answer him. “I love pizza.”

He winks, then jerks his chin toward the hall. “Get settled. I’ll put in a pizza order. Anything you don’t like? I got some beers in the fridge cooling down. “

“I don’t care for sausage or pineapples on my pizza.”

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes moving up and down my body again, then he clears his throat before he speaks. He asks me the weirdest freaking question, as far as it pertains to pizza, that I’ve ever heard.

“You like chicken and broccoli?”

I nod slowly. “Yesss….”

He grins before he jerks his chin. “I got you.”

And that is that. He turns and walks toward the kitchen, holding his cell phone to his ear. I take that as a signal that we’re done discussing pizza for the moment, so I turn and tug my bag behind me as I walk down the hallway and slip into the master bedroom, closing and locking the door behind me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

POSEY

The master bedroomis a lot nicer than I thought it would be, considering this is a house owned by a motorcycle club, and I saw the conditions of the bar and rooms at Ivy and Bullet’s club. They were dirty and dank.

The whole place smelled like drugs, sex, and booze. To be fair, that’s what was going on there, so I shouldn’t have expected anything different. But this place is nice. There are soft jersey cotton sheets, fluffy light-blue towels, and even a television above a really sturdy wooden chest of drawers.

The fact that there is even a comforter with decorative pillows tells me that a woman of some kind has been in here and helped make this place as homey as possible, which I fully appreciate.

My clothes are now unpacked, folded, and placed in drawers, along with being hung up in the closet. My toiletries are neatly put away in the bathroom drawers and shower. I kick off my sneakers before walking back into the living room, knowing without a doubt that I won’t need to run from here.

I’m surprised to see he’s no longer wearing his black leather vest. He’s also kicked off the black boots he had on and has his socked feet on the coffee table with a beer bottle resting on his stomach, his focus on the television. I can hear something playing, but I have no idea what it is.

I open my mouth to ask him what’s on, just as a conversation piece, when the doorbell rings.

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