Page 77 of His Road Dog

Nicole slipped underneath and hugged his side. Looping his arm around her neck, he pulled her closer and kissed her upturned lips.

"I don't want to nap without you," she said.

He grunted, focusing on a spot near the river below. It felt fucking great to have her near him.

"You've been entertaining yourself," she murmured against his lips.

The vibrations of her voice grabbed him by the balls. "Easy to do with the shit your dad gave me."

She hummed and cuddled closer. He put the joint in front of her, and she shook her head.

"You don't toke?"

"No, not anymore. I grew up." Her upper body quivered in amusement. "Pot has always been a part of my life, obviously, but when I left home, I didn't know anyone who had some, and when I was at a party or bar, the stuff that everyone else smoked smelled gross. I'd be lying if I told you I never want a good roll, but the moment passes. Almost like the feeling of homesickness."

He kissed her forehead. He'd seen what being around her family had done for her. She obviously loved her independence, but she came back from the visit with her parents rejuvenated and more determined to live every second with him.

"You enjoy that one. I'll enjoy you." Her hand wandered to his lower stomach, and she rubbed.

His eyelids grew heavy. Damn, he could live every fucking day higher than a kite—something that he rarely allowed himself to do. As long as he had his woman's hands on him, his men safe at the clubhouse, and nobody had died, he'd be damn happy.

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