Page 23 of Protecting Her Secrets

The soundof scratching pulls me from my sleep. I sit up and stretch, pausing when I realize I’m not in my own bed. Glancing around at the artwork on the pale gray walls and the simple blue and white bedding, I recognize Walker’s guest room from the tour he gave me.

I must’ve fallen asleep before the movie was over. Does that mean Walker carried me in here? I throw off the comforter to find my legs bare. My cheeks redden even if he’s not here to witness my embarrassment. If he took the sweatpants off, does that mean he knows I don’t have underwear on? I don’t know whether to be pissed he did it or upset I wasn’t awake to watch him take them off.

The scratching starts up again, so I climb out of the comfy bed with fluffy pillows and the most cloud-like comforter I’ve ever experienced to open the door. Sprocket comes barreling in, jumping on me before leaping onto the bed. He spins and fluffs the sheets until he’s satisfied, and then he plops himself down and promptly closes his eyes.

“Sprocket,” Walker whisper-shouts as he walks down the hall.

I step out into the doorway and point. “He’s in here.”

“Damn. Sorry about that. This is his morning nap space because it gets the best sun.”

“I don’t blame him. Though there’s not much sun today.” Glancing out the window, I see nothing but dark clouds and strong winds blowing snow around. “Did you carry me to bed last night?”

“You fell asleep during the movie.” His eyes catch on my bare legs, and he swallows hard.

I look down at myself and realize how exposed we both are, with me only in his oversized T-shirt and him in nothing but black sweatpants. The sight of his chiseled body sends a jolt of desire through me, every inch of skin covered in new hills and valleys of rippling muscle.

The unmistakable smell of damp wood and earth fills my nose as I catch a glimpse of him. His hair, still wet from the shower, frames his face in dark, tousled locks that only enhance his rugged appearance. But it’s not just his hair that has changed—a thick mustache and beard now cover the lower half of his face, giving him an edge he never had before. Gone are the clean-shaven days of high school and college, replaced with a man who exudes raw masculinity and power.

Now I’m the one swallowing hard as I refocus on the conversation. “I guess you also took the sweatpants off me?”

He has the good sense to look at least a touch sheepish. “Yeah, I thought you’d be more comfortable.”

“Hmm.”

He scratches the back of his neck, and he must be thinking about something that puts a wicked grin on his face because he turns his head to look at me, a brow quirking. “How come you never went commando when we were together?”

I slap his bare chest, but there’s no heat behind it. “I don’t normally, but I don’t have any clean panties.”

“I didn’t perv on you, I promise.”

“I should be a lot more scandalized than I am.”

“Do the kids at that school of yours beat up on you? You have some gnarly bruises on your thighs.”

My mouth goes dry. “Just how close of a look did you get?”

“I promise I didn’t lurk. The second I saw. . . well, you know, I pulled the T-shirt down to preserve your modesty.”

“‘Preserve my modesty?’ In case you don’t remember, Ilostmy modesty to you in the backseat of your car senior year.” I side-eye him, but my tone is teasing.

My smile falls when he wets his lips and his brown eyes go dark. All joking ceases, and a tension that wasn’t there mere seconds ago fills the air. Before I know what’s happening, he stalks toward me, backing me up against the door jamb. He braces one strong hand on the wall above my head, the other on my hip. “Oh, I remember all right. The way we went at each other like starved beasts, not even bothering to take all our clothes off, is burned into my memory. And sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can still feel how soft your skin was. I can still hear the way you called out my name as you came, can still smell your bergamot perfume, and if I focus real hard, I can still feel your tight heat wrapped around me.”

His intense gaze sears through me, making me squirm under the weight of his stare and heating things up between my thighs.Who is this man?The Walker I knew was gentle, teasing me with dirty talk but always waiting for my clear consent before making a move. This new side of him leaves me breathless and trembling with desire. Damn, I can’t get enough of it.

I’m debating whether to climb him like a tree or slap him for disrespecting my upcoming nuptials when he pushes off the walland walks away, calm as can be, while I stand there staring, my brain scrambled.

“I know you were hoping to leave today, but the weather shows more accumulation later on. You’re not getting off the mountain for at least another day,” he calls over his shoulder.

That pulls me from my thoughts. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I nearly choke on the bile that climbs my throat as I chase after him. “No, I don’t think you understand. I can’t stay here. You have to get me back to my rental.”

“I don’t thinkyouunderstand. Unless you’re gonna sled down the mountain, you ain’t leaving.” Walker leans against the kitchen counter, lifting a steaming mug to his lips.

I wrap my arms around myself, wondering how I got myself into this mess and how the hell I’ll get out of it. The only reason Klutch has allowed me to be gone this long is because he’s surrounded by Broken Rebels from chapters around the country in town to not only vote in a new president but also for the wedding. With all those eyes on him, he’s on his best behavior.

Since Dad’s death, Klutch has been acting president, and it’s assumed he’ll officially be voted in. On top of that, he’s marrying the club’s princess—me—the day after the vote. So, from now until the wedding, the Broken Rebels have twice the reason to party. Klutch’s nights will be spent getting hammered and fucking his way through all the patch pussy he can get his hands on. And I don’t feel even a sliver of jealousy.

No, what I feel is fear. Fear he won’t take no for an answer once we’re married. Fear he’ll give me a disease if he refuses to wrap it up. Fear I’ll eventually birth his heir he’ll raise to be just like him, continuing the sick cycle.

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