Page 69 of Bullet

“This is the last thing you needed,” I groan. “I’m so sorry for wrecking this.”

“Nope.” He inhales against my hair. “I don’t know what I was thinking, convincing you to do this. I should have planned on a romantic picnic, but instead I decided to act like a horny teenager.”

“We never got to be teenagers, though, did we?”

His eyes glisten wetly. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Of course! Should we… are we going to go?”

I’m disappointed when he nods. “We can ride by that farm and drop some money in their mailbox like I promised. I’ll take us back to Hart.”

“Is that the gentlemanly way of saying that you don’t want to do this again?”

He scoffs. “I want to do this all the time. Far more often than I should.”

“Stay the night?” My voice is thick with need. “If you’re allowed. If you don’t have club duties.”

Bullet’s stayed the night at our house many times now, but that’s not what I’m asking him to do. For me, offering my bed is as good as offering my whole heart. Getting on the back ofBullet’s bike might make it official in his world, but offering my most unguarded, vulnerable moments is official inmine.

His hands feather down my back and then whisper up to my neck. He glides his warm palm around, tipping my face up and kissing me softly. There’s almost no trace of the ragged passion that is still etched into his face. I fall into it—into him, into his kiss, losing myself.

“I don’t have club duties,” he rasps against my lips before he kisses me again. “I’m so honored that you’d ask. So fucking undone by you.”

He pulls away, snapping up my jacket so that I’ll be warm on the bike. I could easily do it myself, but for once, I’m not offended by someone taking care of me. It actually is kind of nice.

It’s not until we’re getting on his bike, and he turns around to give me the shyest smile that I realize it’s not just me who is vulnerable. It’s not just me offering my body and my heart and soul.

I don’t know if Bullet’s ever spent the night with anyone either.

As he said, it’s an honor.

Chapter 18

Bullet

Lynette’s awake before me the next morning.

I’m not sure how she gets past me without waking me up, but I don’t stir until her soft steps enter the bedroom.

I sit up, disoriented as fuck for a second, but seeing her immediately calms me. We might not have fallen asleep until late last night, watching movies, talking, and then cuddling in her bed, but that’s no reason for me to sleep in for the first time since I was probably thirteen years old.

I swipe my hand over my face, blinking guiltily. There is more than just watery sunlight coming through the gap in the beige curtains. I’ve never woken up next to someone, and all I can hope is that I didn’t snore or drool in my sleep. That’s not exactly first date material right there.

Lynette’s carrying a tray with coffee and muffins, which she sets down on the nightstand. Her bright, shy smile is new. Sweet and tentative, it’s entirely for me.

She’s not wearing a power suit this morning, and it means the world that she intentionally left her armor off and dressed in a gray hoodie with her law school’s name on it and a pair of black leggings. She’s makeup free, her hair brushed out, but far from tamed. I don’t know what hurts more. My heart or my cock. In a good way.

“Would you like a muffin? I just baked them.”

They smell heavenly, and so does Lynette, the scents of her morning’s labors clinging to her.

“What time did you get up?”

“I’m kind of used to my alarm going off at five. It’s a hard habit to break. I was awake and I wanted to stay in bed, but you needed to sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up being restless beside you. I got up and did yoga, then made the pumpkin muffins Willa’s been begging me for.”

“She’s still going to the college right from her warehouse?”

“Yeah. I think she’s probably there now. It’s past nine.”

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