Page 79 of His Old Lady

"I'm staying up." She followed him into the kitchen. "I should probably go back home and get a few things done before I have to work tonight."

"I'll take you."

"You don't have to." She eyed him curiously, watching him fill an old-time pot with water and set a full strainer of coffee grounds inside before putting on the top. "You haven't bought a coffee maker?"

"No need. This works fine, and the coffee tastes better." He glanced at her. "What are you going to do with your house?"

"What do you mean?

"You're living here now," he said.

She raised her brows, surprised that he was willing to talk about their arrangement. "I don't know."

"You could sell it. I can get some guys together and clean up the backyard for you. A little grass seed and nobody would know there was a fire." He turned the burner on and faced her. "Use the insurance money and put up a greenhouse or whatever you want here, on the property. Or, you can sock the money away, and I'll pay to have whatever you want built."

She grabbed for the counter, shocked that he'd offer. Without knowing where their relationship was going, she would never give up everything she had to move in with him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

She blinked, not knowing where to start. "I think things are going too fast."

"You've belonged to me for six years. That's not fast."

"You know there's a difference." A heaviness settled on her shoulders, and she leaned against the counter. "Just because we had sex years ago and you claimed me in front of Tarkio, we never had a relationship after that. You were with other women."

He watched the pot on the stove. If she thought too long about him being with the women who hung out at the clubhouse, it would ruin her mood. It was one of the reasons why she was always in a bad mood when he had come around. The worst part of her life revolved around seeing him party at the clubhouse, having a good time, and then turn around and act disgusted when he spotted her.

"I never had sex with the others," he said.

Pain. Straight to the heart.

Disappointed that he would lie, she said, "That's not true."

He looked at her. "I never stuck my dick in anyone's pussy, except yours since the first time you crawled into my bed. Yeah, I got relief from them in other ways, and if we would've had a regular relationship, that wouldn't have happened. Christ, woman, you were seventeen years old."

Her mouth opened. She closed her lips and turned away from him. That was a topic for another time—or never. She would never see it the same way as him because she had remained faithful.

"I need to get ready to go home." She walked out of the kitchen.

Halfway down the hallway, she couldn't keep her thoughts to herself and went back to the kitchen.

"For your information, I never crawled into your bed and forced you to have sex. You pulled me down and wanted to cuddle. At seventeen years old, heck, even at twenty-four years old, having you touch me feels like the most wonderful thing in the world, so when you started making out with me the next morning after I had a sleepless night, I wanted to have sex with you. But I did not crawl in your bed and take advantage of you or screw you over so that you'd claim me. I would never do that. No matter how much I loved you." Her whole body vibrated, and she walked away from him.

Her adrenaline pumped wildly throughout her. She'd wanted to tell him that for years and knew she'd completely fall apart if she even broached the subject with him.

But, she'd held it together.

To her surprise, she felt stronger, having told him the truth. In his drunken state, he'd missed a few facts. She wasn't the only one guilty for starting something she couldn't finish. He'd touched her first.

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