Page 71 of Fighting a Riot

I finished up and opened the bathroom door, light spilling into the room.

Yak laid on his side in bed, the covers down around his hips. His body was so still, I suspected he fell back to sleep.

I turned off the light and tiptoed toward the doorway when he said, “Get back here, princess.”

I turned around. “Enough with the princess bit. And I can’t sleep anymore.”

“Bullshit. You been up three times in the past four hours. You’re comin’ back to bed.”

He threw me off, admitting he knew I’d been awake. His bossy tone didn’t help either. Where was the happy-go-lucky man I first met?

His stern voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Don’t make me come get you.”

Part of me wanted to see him try, but it wouldn’t be good for my stitches. I trudged back to my side of the bed.

I planted my hands on my hips, not that he could see that. “I don’t know if you’re grouchy or what’s gotten into you, but you can’t force me back into bed. And you certainly can’t make me sleep, Yak.”

He flipped on his bedside lamp. When my eyes adjusted, I saw his lips curled with a sly grin. “I could make you sleep, woman –but my guess is that the chemo doesn’t put you in the mood for me to make you come with my tongue and my mouth.”

I closed my eyes against his words, but that only made things worse since I envisioned exactly what he’d described.

My eyes opened and I stared at him. “You are so confusing. Why would you want to do that?”

He scooted across the bed toward me, wrapped an arm around my waist, and gently tugged me onto the bed.

When he had us side-by-side under the covers, he tucked my hair behind my ear. “I want to do that and so damn much more, Nora. Get this through your head, I want you in the worst way.”

The heated sincerity of his eyes reinforced his words.

“Why me?” I blurted.

His eyes widened and his head reared back. “You’re joking.”

I gave a short shake of my head. “I’m not. You hang with strippers all night, why would you find me attractive? I’ve had a lumpectomy. I’m grateful as can be that I don’t have to have reconstructive surgery. But the scars, and all that… there’s no way you would want anything to do with me.”

He blew out a long, patient breath. “You’re a fighter in a way most people would never know that you fight. I find that to be incredibly admirable, and beauty comes from within, not from what’s on the outside.”

“That’s what everyone says,” I scoffed.

His eyes heated. “I know that’s where beauty comes from, because I’ve spent so much time holding auditions and watching gorgeous women dance. They can wear makeup, do their hair, but nothing hides a bitchy disposition and no sense of humor.”

“But they have better bodies,” I muttered.

His expression softened. “They have bodies, and so do you. This will sound crass, but pussy is pussy. Sex isn’t everything in a relationship.”

“But I’m sure big breasts turn you on.”

He shook his head ever so slightly. “I’m more of an ass man, but you need to get me, Nora. It’s about who I’m with, not what they look like.”

I nodded. “I get you.”

A small smile appeared before he said, “You better.”

“To clarify, you’re done with the whole ‘you deserve someone better’ routine?” I asked, pitching my voice lower to imitate him.

His lips tipped up. “Yeah. I’m done with that shit. You aren’t goin’ anywhere without me puttin’ up a fight.”

“What about rebounds?”

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