Page 89 of Patching Over

“How so?” she asks.

“You’re going to be mine, Rory.”

CHAPTER

TEN

Rory

Somehow, I manage to fall asleep shortly after finding out that regardless of the money spent, I’m not allowed to pay him back.

I’m now lying in the same bed as the infuriating man who informed me I was going to be his. I may not know much about motorcycle clubs, but I read and of course, I watch television, so I know what that means, and quite honestly, I’m not sure Iwantto get involved with someone else so soon.

I mean, Patrick broke something inside of me, and while I’ve done a lot of thinking during my time away, I don’t know if I can put my trust in another man ever again. Although, since he first knocked on my window when I was broken down on the side of the road, Banshee’s been nothing but solicitous. He and the other two bikers didn’t have to stop, or hell, even render assistance.

Yet, he did.Theydid. We’re in a clubhouse that is not his home base, and even these men and the woman I met earlier, Sage, have been kind and friendly. Do I give him that chance to break my heart?

Patrick didn’t really break your heart, dumbass,my brain says.He shattered your pride, and those are two different things.

Sighing, I roll over trying to get comfortable again and feel a hard arm pull me close until I’m snuggled into his warm, hard body. And when I say hard, he’s hardall over. “Rest, Rory. You’re safe now,” he murmurs, his voice sleepy.

Despite my inner worries and musings, his warmth and the conviction behind his words has me falling back to sleep, content to worry about the state of my life tomorrow.

“Is your cat always this persistent?” I hear rumbled next to my ear.

“Hmm?” I sleepily reply, still mired in a delicious yet very dirty dream involving me and a certain biker I’ve recently met.

“She’s standing on me and poking me in the cheek,” he rasps. “Why is she doing that?”

I start giggling because she does that when she wants her wet food. “She’s hungry,” I reply, trying to disengage myself from his embrace. He’s definitely a cuddler and I find I like being the little spoon in the equation, especially when I feel his morning erection pressed against my lower back and ass. “I suspect she wants her wet food. I’ll get up and feed her once you let me go.”

“Don’t wanna,” he grumbles. “Okay, alright, I’ll let her up, you fuzzy little pita.”

Laughing now, I roll away from him and get out of the bed. “What does pita mean?” I ask going over to the corner where the prospect set up the food and water. He even got the brand of wet food she eats, as well as a separate bowl to put it in. I top off her dry food and then open up the can and put it in the bowl. Pickingup the water bowl, I head to the bathroom, dump out the old water then refill it with fresh water which I then take back over and set down.

“Pain in the ass,” he replies, having sat up with his back against the wall since there’s no headboard. The sheet is piled around his waist, but I can still see what he’s packing and feel my face flush.

Sex with Patrick was… well, it was sex. Nothing to write home about and of course, since he was never about me or how I felt, he never really did anything to get me ready. It was often painful, and I never once orgasmed. Yet I suspect the man currently watching me with a look in his eyes that I can’t decipher, would more than ensure I was ready and willing.

Not only that but watching how he interacts with Sassy has my bruised heart healing slightly. He may not be thrilled about being awakened by her, but while I was filling up her bowls and getting water, he had her curled against his chest and was gently petting her. Hell, she was purring so loud, I could clearly hear her!

With her now situated, I take a few minutes in the bathroom to empty my overfull bladder, wash my hands, then return to bed. As soon as I’m situated on my side facing him, I watch as he slides down then turns so we’re staring at each other. I can practically feel the pheromones flying through the air, but he doesn’t do anything more than tuck a curl that’s fallen into my face behind my ear.

“She can definitely be one of those,” I admit, grinning at him. “But she’s very, very spoiled. So, if anyone’s a pita, it’s me.”

“How is that even possible?” he asks.

“Because when I found her one day, she was still too young to be on her own. I had to bottle feed her, and since I was worried about her, I carried her around in one of those sling things while doing my chores,” I reply.

He bursts out laughing at my admission and I find myself watching his face relax even more than it was after he first woke up. I suspect he hasn’t done a lot of laughing; there’s a solemnness to his expression that almost borders on cold and uncaring, so I’m glad I’m seeing this side of him.

“Guess that’s one way to spoil a pet,” he teases. Glancing toward the window, which still shows it’s dark outside, he says, “It’s too early to get up. I can guarantee that none of the brothers will be up and at ‘em at this time of day.”

“What time is it?”

I should know or at least sense the time. God knows living on the farm, I was up around four thirty in the morning to help with the early chores. However, as Grampy slowed down, he sold off most of the livestock and cut back on the size of our garden. The only thing that we really kept were the chicken coops, and as long as the girls and roosters are fed and watered regularly, they don’t care if I go out there at the butt crack of dawn or later, around nine.

He rolls back slightly and grabs his phone then hits the screen so it lights up and I gasp. “Five? Really, Sassy?” I fuss. “You haven’t done that in a long, long time.”

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