Page 146 of 23 Hours

His boots nudge the outside edges of mine. “Yes, love. We’re safe. We’re okay.”

“Are you?” His fist doesn’t look okay. Those boots are dotted with blood. I have two eyes. I notice shit.

“Yes.”

Tilting my head back to look him in the face, I eye him skeptically. “Promise?”

“I promise.” He pecks the tip of my nose and smiles like he wants to kiss me a thousand times more.

The lovestruck fool I am smiles back, despite my unease. He’s been through a lot. We’ve been through a lot. I don’t want anything to sour our wedding day if I can help it. Not for me, but him. This is a first for Gunz. Whether he’ll admit it to me, let alone himself, this was a giant step for the forever bachelor. Not to mention the brand and the tattoo that came after.

Trust me, I’m gonna give him shit for it later. At the right time. Who burns their skin and never tells their partner they’re doing it? Apparently, him. The tattoo I get. The other, he’ll have to explain. Bink said it was a tradition when she urged me to pull up my big girl panties and stand by my man even if I didn’t like it. I did. I stood by him like I always will.

I mean, it ended in an incredible round of sex. My pussy is sore. The pleasant kind of sore. Tomorrow morning, we’ll have to see the level of damage Gunz wrought. The bite marks and hickeys across my shoulders and neck are already brands upon flesh. The number of fingerprints on my ass are sure to paint an interesting picture. Perhaps we can play connect the dots with them, after Gunz spends an hour apologizing for getting carried away. That’s how it typically works.

Apologies, followed by orgasms.

I can’t decide if it’s the guilt that makes him atone for his actions, thus wanting to bring me subsequent pleasure. Or it’s his marks that turn him on, and the orgasms are a byproduct of his arousal. Perhaps it’s a smidge of both.

A set of soft, warm lips encased in a delicious beard drag across my sensitive neck. “You’re thinkin’ an awful lot, love.”

Laughing quietly at how attentive my husband is, I inhale and get a high-octane hit of all that is Gunz—leather, spice, cinnamon. Cupping the back of his neck, I hold him to my flesh. “Of course I am.”

His hand slips up my skirt and grips my ass. “Should I make good on what I forgot?” Gunz yanks me flush against him. His thick cock, ready and willing, prods my belly through the denim—a naughty promise of what’s to come.

Fisting the front of his shirt, I shudder. “Not right now.”

He nuzzles beneath my ear. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. Don’t we have food to eat? And… maybe you’ll dance with me.” I tack on the last part, timid but hopeful. We never discussed dancing together.

Never one to let me down, Gunz pries himself away on a disappointed growl. Rubbing my hands up and down my arms, I glance around the common room. The sisters have left, and Adam too. Guess we were a little too preoccupied in our bubble to notice. Not that I’m surprised. It’s a common occurrence.

Gunz hooks his thick, muscled arm through mine and escorts me from the clubhouse common room through the halls and out the back door. Only then do I realize how many brothers are in attendance—over fifty or sixty I’ve never seen before. All of them busy drinking and chatting with various women and each other.

Now dark outside, the fire and a few outdoor lights illuminate the large outdoor space. It’s cozy. Intimate.

Gunz pulls me to a group of long tables filled with food in various covered containers. He hands me a plate before he grabs one for himself. I gather our black-and-red plasticware and napkins. Together, we scope out the spread. Fried chicken is first up. He tongs a thigh from the pan and drops it on my plate.

“Thanks, babe.”

As we go, my husband serves us both. The things he knows I like, which is most of the food, he gives me little bits of. The foods he doesn’t know for sure, he asks, and by ask, I mean he points, and I either nod or shake my head. It’s simple and easy, as it always is. Honestly, it’s not much different from nights at home.

At the end, he drops one of Bink’s famous chocolate chip cookies next to a brownie on my plate. I grab us two water bottles from a cooler and follow him to a picnic table.

We sit next to each other and eat in companionable silence. I watch him out of the corner of my eye, takin’ in how handsome he is. Gunz winks when he catches me. I wink back, takin’ a sip of water, not at all ashamed I’m ogling my husband.

As usual, Gunz finishes first.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“It’s awesome,” I mumble around a bite.

“I thought so, too. You wanna dance after this?” He lifts his chin at a brother passing by. The man pats Gunz’s shoulder, then keeps on walkin’.

Swallowing, I watch the man join a group by the fire. “Um… sure? If you want.”

“You’re transparent, love. You get that, yeah?”

---