Page 117 of Truck Off

I shake my head. He couldn’t have. He was just caught up in the moment. I don’t care what my dad says, it’s too soon for love. In a flash, my conversation with my dad runs through my mind.

Is this what he meant by the right kind of love? I shake my head, not able to think clearly with Chase’s cock still inside me. Besides, I don’t think I’m ready for emotions and feelings that deep.

But still …

I debate on asking him about it, but I can’t seem to get my mouth to work. Instead, I focus on something else entirely.

“What made you decide to get a tattoo tonight?” He lifts his head, and when his eyes meet mine, my heart sinks. There’s guilt behind that look. “What did you do?”

“Nothing I didn’t already tell you I would do.”

“And what was that, exactly?”

“Take care of you.” He presses a quick kiss to my lips.

I narrow my eyes, not liking where this is going. “Did you let me give you a tattoo in the hopes it would lessen the blow back from whatever it is you did?”

“No.” He rears his head back. “I’d already decided I’d let you do that at some point. I chose tonight to keep you distracted and away while Edge and his guys finished up the trailer.”

“What?” I yell, and try to push him off me, but he won’t budge. “Oh, I am so mad at you. I can’t accept the MC’s help. There’s no way in hell I am ever owing them shit.”

“You didn’t accept their help. I did.”

“Bullshit. Do you think that matters to people like them? They’re bad people, and I don’t want anything from them.”

“They’re not bad. Edge really cleaned up the club.” His voice is softer and somewhat pained. “Besides, they owe me. This is a payment to me, which means you’re free and clear of any obligation. Not that there would have been one without my involvement.”

I furrow my brow and search his eyes. There’s something hidden behind his gaze. A pain I don’t yet understand. “What does that mean?”

He sighs and presses his lips to mine. “One day, I’ll show you. Just not tonight.”

He pushes to his feet, and I miss his warmth and closeness as he pulls out of me. He disappears down the hallway and slips into the bathroom while I gather my clothes. By the time he returns, I’ve got my jeans on and am slipping on my shoes.

He grabs his boxers before he heads back out front to get the rest of his clothes from my station. When he returns, he’s fully dressed.

I look up at him as he leans against the doorway, a distant look on his face. I don’t know what it means or how to handle this shift in his mood.

Is it because he knows I’m not happy about the MC? He has to understand why I’m upset about their involvement. Being indebted to the MC is a dangerous position no matter how clean they are now. They’re still an MC.

My eyes shift to his hip, and I shake my head. “I need to cover your tattoo so it can properly heal. Pull those back down.”

He does as I ask, and I quickly cover it and go over care instructions for the next several days. Once I’m done, he fixes his clothes and heads toward the front door.

“I’m still mad at you,” I call out as I push to my feet.

He shrugs. “That’s fine. You can be as mad as you want. Just don’t run from me.”

Our eyes lock, neither of us moving. A hint of worry pushes past his pain, and it causes the tension to leave my body.

“I won’t,” I say as I grab my things so we can leave.

I lock up in silence, and neither of us says a word as he drives me to his apartment. I want to argue with him to take me home. Not only do I want to see what the MC did, but I want some space. I need time to process his declaration of love. Hell, I don’t even know if he meant it.

But I don’t.

I let him lead me upstairs.

I let him help me clean up and slip one of his oversized T-shirts over me.

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