Page 62 of Truck Stop Tempest

I stiffened, tightening my thighs around his hips. “A condom.” I slapped his butt. “Get a condom.”

The idea of pregnancy had always sickened me, a black thundercloud looming over my head. Had I stayed in Rockypoint, childbearing would have been a duty forced upon me. I’d never wanted a family, never wanted to bring a child into a world where The Brotherhood had full reign.

The thought of raising Tito’s children, however, filled me with a sense of hope, of purpose, and that scared me, because what if he didn’t want the same thing?

“Tito, please,” I mumbled into his mouth. “I’m not on the pill.”

He offered a reassuring kiss before pulling out, resting his weight on one elbow, and sliding a finger inside me, watching with reverence the way I rolled against his palm. “Would you do it? Get on the pill?”

Arching against him, I breathed, “Yes.”

“When I get back, we’ll get tested. I’ve always used condoms, but fuck, I want you with nothing between us.”

My heart jetted skyward. We. He said, We’ll get tested. As in us. Together. “I want that too.”

He inserted a second finger, teasing me further, driving me mad. “Will you make us an appointment while I’m gone?”

“Yeah. I can do that.”

He paused his stroking, face going pale. “They don’t have to draw blood for those tests, do they?”

Oh, jeez. Less talking, more rubbing. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

“Thank you.” He reached across the mattress and yanked the nightstand drawer open. His gaze never left mine while he rolled the latex over his hard length.

I was panting by the time he crawled over me, breathless when he drove inside me, mindless by the time he growled his release and collapsed at my side, sweaty and spent, and holding me tight.

My shift started in two hours. Tito and Tucker were leaving an hour after that. The thought of spending a week alone, sleeping in his bed, alone, made my stomach roll.

I wanted him to stay. Needed him to stay.

If I were selfish enough to ask, there was no doubt he would cancel his trip.

I didn’t ask. Instead, I summoned my beast and pushed the worry aside.

Worry aside, I was not looking forward to the week ahead for too many fucked-up reasons. One? No Tuuli. Two? No naked Tuuli. Three? Shacking-up with Tucker instead of my bunny. Four? Not being able to keep an eye on my girl. The list was endless.

Of course, I would never voice my concerns. Suffering through all the sappy bullshit was pathetic enough, but to expose my belly, so to speak? Not happening. Tuuli thought I was indestructible. I’d let her believe that little fantasy.

Knowing she was staying in my apartment helped to ease some of the anxiety. Even though I’d arranged for extra security at The Stop, I couldn’t shake that nagging tingle, warning that she wasn’t free and clear of her family.

Roger had no updates to give on the murder investigation. Although, from Tuuli’s retelling of the event, the assailants had to be members, or past members, of The Brotherhood. Victims of her father, if my suspicions were correct. She couldn’t identify the three men because they’d worn masks. Thank fuck. If she had seen their faces, they never would have let her escape the assault.

As if sensing my agitation, Tuuli traced small circles across my back, her fingers moving in slow, soothing strokes. I closed my eyes, lulled by her sleepy caresses.

“Why don’t you have any tattoos?” she whispered, soft and dreamy.

“Mmm,” I hummed into the pillow. “Why do you ask?”

“Most people like you have tattoos.”

That earned her a slap on the ass. “People like me?”

She rolled onto her back, crossing her arms behind her head. “Big. Scary. Badass.”

“Badass, huh?” I asked, pushing up on my elbows to get a better view of those perfect breasts.

“And hot,” she quickly added. “Incredibly hot.”

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