Page 115 of Bullet

“He cares about you, Scarlett,” Stormy said. “Don’t ask him to choose between us because he already has.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m his old lady.”

“And she’s a badass, grand theft auto Heller,” Romeo said. “This is enough for a couple of joints. Let me know if you need me to roll for him.”

I preferred a pipe. Maybe I could get Stormy to smoke a bowl with me. If I could get her high, I could get her to ignore Willow’s warnings and ride my dick.

“Thanks.” After a moment, she asked, “Are we done?”

“He’s changed because of you.” I could hear Scarlett’s tears. I didn’t want to hurt her, but I fucking loved Stormy. “He doesn’t call any of us his kittens anymore. Only you. Why should I care if he doesn’t?”

A few seconds of silence followed the footsteps fading down the hall.

“He still cares,” Stormy said.

“But not the way he cares about you. Scarlett will get over it.”

“She’s going to have to. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good. I love you, girl. Bullet has always taken care of us,” Bristol said. “It’s about time someone takes care of him.”

Stormy came back into the room, climbed onto the bed, sat with her legs crossed, and handed me the baggie of weed. “Did you hear?”

“Did I hear my woman be labeled a Heller, an old lady, and accused of grand theft auto? Fuck, yeah, I did. We can add you’re a terrible shot with a Glock and shit behind the wheel. But you give great head, taste like fucking heaven, and you’re feisty as fuck.”

And she was mine.

“I love you.” She leaned in and kissed me.

I’d dreamed of her for months, of the woman who’d fiercely protected those girls. I wanted to chase the fear from her beautiful brown eyes. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to make my little old house a home with her. She was fucking everything I claimed I’d never have. I wanted everyone to know she chose me. I wanted the fucking ring on my finger. The one I swore I’d never wear.

She made me want to be a better man. I didn’t just want her to be my wife. I wanted to be her husband.

Chapter Sixteen

Six weeks later.

Stormy

I had butterflies. A beautiful kaleidoscope of color swirled inside me. I pressed a hand to my belly and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The simple, but short, white wedding dress draped my body to mid-thigh. An asymmetrical see-through chiffon layer fluttered around my legs to below my knees.

The door of Blade’s room popped open. “Your officiant is well on his way to being drunk,” McKelle said.

“No one will notice,” Jazzy said. “Everyone, including the groom, is throwing back shots.”

Bristol held up a bottle of cinnamon schnapps. “Our turn.”

Pippa dusted my cheeks with blush. “I didn’t know your dad could perform weddings,” she said to Levi.

Levi sat in a chair with her legs spread to give room for her belly the size of a beach ball. She’d gotten huge over the last few weeks, and she lookedabsolutely miserable. “Don’t expect traditions other than saying the marriage is official, and then he’ll tell Bullet he can have his filthy way with you.”

My tummy tumbled, thinking of all the indecent things he’d been doing to me up until two days ago. The mental image of his dick was a thirst trap for my pussy. I adjusted on the chair to tame the wild flutter between my legs.

Hana laughed.

“I haven’t had sex in two days.” Technically thirty-nine hours and about…ten minutes, but who was counting? Me. I was counting.

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