Page 129 of Rigger's Mistake

“Did you see the listing I sent you?” I ask.

“Yeah. I liked it, but I don’t think it’s right.”

“Why? I loved that one. There’s even a mother-in-law suite out back. We have to get my mom out of the clubhouse before Sugar murders her.”

Mom only stayed here at the Honey Pot for a week before Cy offered his cabin until we found permanent accommodations. Mom began intensive therapy with Danielle, and after starting a whole host of anti-anxiety and anti-depression medications, she’s been feeling better and wanting to help around the clubhouse.

Turns out, there is such a thing as too many cooks in the kitchen because Sugar didn’t take too kindly to having Mom around. She runs things a certain way, and Mom wasn’t complying. It’s been a battle of wills ever since.

“But it only has two bedrooms in the main house,” he says, turning me around to shampoo my hair.

“We don’t need something big. It’s just us.”

“But someday, it might not be.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“Someday, all this practicing we’re doing will make a baby, and we’ll need somewhere to put him.”

My brows furrow. “You want kids?”

It’s not that I’ve never thought about it, but I always assumed he wouldn’t want the liability or responsibility. Plus, I help run the brothel that he owns, which isn’t exactly a wholesome environment. Not to mention, the whole one percenter motorcycle club thing. I assumed there wasn’t room for a child in all that.

But then I get an image of a little boy with Rigger’s unusual green eyes and my blonde hair, and my heart melts. Maybe itisa possibility.

“I don’t know. Never did before. I was too worried I’d fuck them up like my dad did to me.”

I whirl around, cupping his face. “You are not fucked up. You’re beautiful and perfect, and you fuck like a porn star.”

He throws his head back in laughter. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say soberly. “All things considered, I think we turned out all right.”

He looks to the floor. “Anyway, that wasn’t the point. The point is, you’d make a great mom.”

“And you’d make a great dad.” I kiss his wet, stubbly chin.

“That’s why I think we need a bigger house.”

I grin. “Okay. I’ll have the agent look for something with three bedrooms, then.”

“Might as well get four. Just in case.”

That has me picturing a little girl with blue eyes and dark hair. “Might as well,” I say.

“And a mother-in-law suite.” He turns me back around to finger-comb the conditioner through my long hair. “Because you’re right. Your momisdriving Sugar up the wall.”

“Will we be married when you put these kids in me?”

He wraps his arms around me, pressing his pelvis against my ass. I suck in a sharp breath when his semi-hard cock slips between my ass cheeks.

“You saying you want to be my wife?” he asks, his lips pressing to my ear as we rock side to side.

I move his hands up to my slick breasts. “Hmm. Do I want to be Mrs. Rigger Brown?”

He slaps my breast before massaging the sting away. “I take it back. I’m not asking. Youwillmarry me.”

“Then I guess it’s settled,” I breathe out as his other hand snakes between my legs to rub circles on my clit.

“Glad you agree.”

There probably aren’t many women out there who would find a forced proposal in the gaudy bathroom of a brothel romantic, but I’m not like other women, and Rigger isn’t like other men. Bonded through trauma and reunited under the most bizarre turn of events, our love story is just as unique as we are.

“That conditioner needs to sit in your hair for ten minutes,” he says. “Why don’t you spend it on your knees?”

He takes a step back and sits on the tiled bench, legs spread wide and his cock now fully erect. God, he’s a sight. Strong, gorgeous, and perfect in every way. It hits me how different my life could’ve turned out had my best friend not told me about the Honey Pot.

Would Rigger and I have found our way back to each other eventually? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is I’m grateful we did. So, I’ll gladly spend the next ten minutes on my knees and the rest of my life worshiping this man.

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