Page 105 of Roulette Rodeo
"Before, I only had Duke and the boys to worry about. We can handle ourselves. But now there's you, and you're..." He struggles for words. "You're precious. A jewel. And I don't want to see you break when our pretend world comes crashing down."
The emotion in his voice, the genuine fear for my safety, should be touching.
Instead, it ignites something rebellious in me.
I snicker, completely ruining the moment.
"What—" he starts, but my knee comes up, catching him right in the balls.
Not hard—I'm not trying to actually damage him—but enough to make him groan and double over slightly.
"Little cherry," he wheezes, "you're ruining the moment here."
"See?" I grin, unrepentant. "I'm not some precious jewel. I can fight."
He's still groaning, hands cupped protectively over his groin, but there's amusement mixing with the pain in his expression.
"Oops," I say, not sounding sorry at all. Then I put my hands on his cheeks, drawing his attention back to my face. I reach up on my tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. The kiss is slow, loving, sweet—everything the knee to the balls wasn't.
When we part, I whisper, "Isn't that what life's supposed to be? Living in the moment instead of fearing when our time's up?"
He nods slowly, still processing the emotional whiplash of being kissed after being kneed.
"Besides," I continue, my voice thoughtful, "I have enemies too. Probably. I have no clue what happens to omegas who leavethe Crimson Roulette. I know most never return, and the few that ever have…well they’re back to what they know best.” I can’t help but think of Briar in the moment. “For all I know, Marnay's plotting to steal back his golden omega as we speak."
His arms tighten around me protectively at the thought.
"We can't predict anything," I say, running my fingers through his messy hair. "But we can enjoy every moment in this peaceful space, even if it's all painted and morphed and temporary. Who cares? It's ours right now. And I'd rather enjoy the fairytale than spend all my time anticipating when I'll wake up."
His smile is slow but genuine, transforming his whole face.
"You're right."
"I usually am," I tease.
He laughs, shaking his head.
"Want to go back to bed? Actually sleep this time?"
"Yeah," I yawn, suddenly aware of how early it must be. "I'm not used to sleeping in. Three years of 4 AM wake-up calls for morning cleanup duty will do that."
"Me neither," he admits, leading me back toward the bedroom. "The guys will probably be home soon anyway."
We crawl back into bed, the sheets still warm from our bodies. I curl into his chest, feeling safe and content in a way that should probably scare me but doesn't. His hand strokes through my hair, the repetitive motion soothing.
But there's one more thing on my mind.
"Shiloh?" I whisper.
"Hmm?"
I lean closer, my lips brushing his ear.
"Can we do 'that' again?"
I feel more than hear his inhale, his body going still for a moment.
When I pull back to look at him, his eyes have darkened, pupils dilating with want. That slow, wicked grin spreads across his face—the one that makes my thighs clench and my heart race.
