Page 39 of Killer's Obsession
“You’d better not be a stranger,” Pinky warns, pulling back to fix Memphis with a look. “Promise me we’ll see each other every week.”
Memphis’s eyes glisten slightly. “I promise.”
I never gave much thought to the pink-haired imp before now. But seeing her with my girl, the way it’s clear she cares about her. It means a lot.
“You ready?” I ask her, holding out my hand.
She takes it, her small fingers curling around mine. “Ready.”
“Later, fuckers,” I call over my shoulder, making Memphis giggle.
I swing my leg over the bike and hold my hand out to help her on. She settles against my back, and my mind quiets.
The ride to our new place takes about twenty minutes, winding through town and then out to the outskirts where the woods get thicker and the houses get fewer and farther between. When we turn onto the long private drive that leads to our house, I feel Memphis’s grip tighten slightly.
The trees arch overhead, creating a tunnel of green that opens suddenly to reveal the clearing. The house sits on a slight rise, so I have the perfect view of anyone coming. Never can be too prepared.
Cutting the engine, I hear Memphis gasp.
“Killer,” she whispers, her voice filled with awe. “It’s beautiful.”
Pride swells in my chest as I help her off the bike. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the property. Twelve acres of woods surround us and the house. The house is a picture-perfect two-story cabin with lots of windows and a wrap-around deck.
“You like it?” I ask, though her expression says she does.
“Like it?” She turns to me, face glowing. “It’s incredible. All this land—it’s so private.”
I take her hand and lead her toward the house. “No neighbors for miles.”
The exterior is a mix of natural stone and cedar siding, with large windows that will let in plenty of light. The porch wraps around the front.
As we reach the front door, I scoop her up in my arms, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back.
She squeals in surprise, her arms going around my neck. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you over the threshold,” I tell her, pushing the door open with my foot.
She laughs, the sound like music to my ears. “Isn’t that customary for a groom with his bride?”
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Another reminder of what I haven’t told her. In our world, in the club, that’s exactly what we are—bound as surely as if we had rings and pledged our vows.
I push the guilt down again and force a smile. “Humor me, Pet.”
I carry her inside, kicking the door closed behind us. The interior is mostly open concept—a large living room flowing into a spacious kitchen with an island in the center. The furniture we bought has been delivered and set up exactly as Memphis imagined it, and it looks fucking perfect.
“Oh my god,” she breathes as I set her down. “It’s even better than I thought.”
I watch as she moves through the space, running her fingers over the couch, the kitchen counters, gazing up at the vaulted ceiling. The wonder on her face makes every penny I spent worth it.
“Come on,” I say, taking her hand again. “Let me show you the rest.”
I lead her through the house, showing her the office space I’ve set up downstairs, the guest bedroom that could easily become something else if we wanted, and finally, up the stairs to the master suite.
The bedroom is massive, dominated by the king-sized bed we picked out. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the woods, and a set of French doors opens onto a private balcony.
“And this,” I say, pushing open another door, “is the bathroom.”
She gasps as she steps inside. The en-suite bathroom is one of my favorite parts of the house—a huge space with double sinks, a soaking tub big enough for two, and an oversized walk-in shower with multiple shower heads.
