Page 96 of Break Out

In front of me was a walk-in shower that had to be twenty feet deep and twenty feet wide, seeing as a huge bathtub sat on the far left side. A glass wall with a glass door separated it from the remainder of the bathroom. The wall on the right side had a bench running the entire length of it and there were two shower heads.

“You could birth a baby in that tub,” I blurted.

“Come again?”

I looked at him. “It’s a thing. Some people have water births.”

His brows lowered. “What the fuck?”

I held a finger up. “Don’t worry, this may be my first pregnancy, but I can tell you right now, I’m not going that route. I’m just saying, that’s a big-ass tub.”

He pulled a washcloth from a basket behind me, getting it wet under the nearby faucet. “It is. You want to take a bath, we can do that tonight. We’re already naked.”

My eyes danced around the room. “As fancy as this bathroom is, I’m dying to see the rest of your house, sir.”

He leaned in and nipped my neck. “Plenty of time to do both, sweetheart.”

I took the cloth from him. “Let me get cleaned up.”

Wearing one of Steel’s Harley-Davidson t-shirts, I stood in what served as his dining room, which sat between the sunken living room and the kitchen. “The whole freaking house is decked out like a show home. Who did this for you?”

The round eight-seater dining table appeared to be custom made, and the wet bar behind the table had nearly every detailed touch. The only thing missing was a beer tap.

From his dry look, I shouldn’t have asked. “Oh.”

He shook his head. “Not that it matters, but I had no intentions of ever fucking her. The moment Debra showed her true colors, I decided to thank my interior designer.”

I glanced around wondering where that might have happened.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. It was sixteen years ago, and that piece of furniture is long gone.”

My gaze wandered to the kitchen on my right and I waved my hand that way. “For a man who says he’s a terror in the kitchen, who actually cooks in there? You? Or do you have a personal chef?”

He sauntered toward me. Unlike me, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a pair of boxer-briefs. “I can cook breakfast, that’s about it. Tor’s ol’ lady comes in and cooks if I’ve got two or three chapter presidents in town. On the rare occasion I let Augusta brothers swing by, I either have shit catered or pay a chef.”

I shook my head. “Pity. That kitchen is to freaking die for. I mean, a six-burner gas range? Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners here would kick ass.”

Again, that got me his dry expression. “Raymond Reynolds, you have this pristine kitchen and don’t do the holidays here? That’s—”

He slid an arm around my waist. “Going to change this year from the sound of it.”

I grimaced. “Well… normally, I’m at the Riot clubhouse or Mom and Dad’s for Thanksgiving.”

His lips pressed together, he did a slow nod and stared at a point over my head. “That will make things interesting.”

I slid my hands along his chest, tracing his tattoos. “It will, but one thing at a time, right?”

With a grin, he nodded. “Right. Let me show you the deck.”

I felt my eyes light up. “A deck? Do you have a pool?”

“Yeah, I mentioned that at lunch.”

My smirk couldn’t be restrained. “I forgot. Somebody rocked my world over on that sofa.”

“You became my world over on that sofa.”

My smirk fell away, that was so unexpected. I cupped his cheeks and laid a hot and heavy kiss on him. He slid his hands to my ass and gave me a squeeze. I broke the kiss, breathing hard. “I love you, but you can’t say things like that to me and not pay the price.”

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