Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“It’s a huge upgrade from the one I have at home,” I admitted. “And Jax made sure this one’s locked down tighter than Fort Knox so nobody can track me through it.”
“Sounds about right.” She nudged my arm with a grin. “I’m glad you’re here, you know. I’ve only known Mason for about a month, but I can already tell that he’s different with you. In a good way.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just smiled, the warmth in my chest making my hands go still over the screen.
“You thinking about doing something with that talent?” a deeper voice cut in. I turned my head and found Blitz leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “The Hounds of Hellfire—club up in Tennessee we have ties with. One of their old ladies writes romance. Might know publishing folks who’d be into your work, if that’s the kind of thing you’re interested in. I’m sure the prez or Axle would be willin’ to reach out for you.”
The offer caught me off guard. I’d been so wrapped up in surviving the past few weeks that I hadn’t let myself imagine what came next, besides having Mason’s baby. But the idea of doing something with my art again, of building something that wasn’t just running from danger, lit a tiny spark inside me. “Thank you for thinking of it. That would be amazing.”
Blitz dipped his chin in agreement. “Mention it to your man, he’ll take it from there.”
There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice—just quiet certainty that Mason would handle it. “Yeah, I will.”
Blitz’s phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from our conversation. One glance at the screen, and a knowing gleam lit his eyes. “They’re almost here.”
Savannah sighed, looking relieved. But it was like someone flipped a switch in me. Excitement surged first, relief right behind it, but there was a tight little knot of nerves tangled up in both. I’d been telling myself the whole time Mason was gone that I’d be fine as soon as I saw him, but now that moment was actually coming, my pulse wouldn’t slow down. Possibly because his instructions for how he wanted me to be waiting for him were burning in the back of my mind.
Naked and in his bed.
If I was going to be Mason’s old lady, I wasn’t going to half-ass it. And I wanted that property patch he offered me more than anything.
So I tucked my iPad under my arm, murmured a quick goodbye to Savannah and Blitz, and headed upstairs.
I’d see him in minutes, and I needed to be ready to welcome him home. That was the only ending I’d accept—Mason walking through that door, safe and mine.
When the door shut behind me, I set my iPad on the dresser and let my gaze sweep over the room that I’d started thinking of as ours, not just his. The bedspread was still rumpled from this morning, and the space felt more lived in than that first day. Like we’d already started to build a life together. One we would cement when Mason officially made me his old lady. Soon.
I stripped out of my clothes, dropping them in a careless pile on the chair. My gaze caught on the leather vest draped over the back — his property patch sewn into it. For half a second, I imagined slipping it on now, feeling the weight of it over my bare skin before he walked in. But he’d been very specific about what he wanted. Me, naked and in bed, waiting for him.
So I left it there for him to put on me himself and did what he asked.
I slid under the covers, my heart hammering in anticipation. Every creak of the building and muffled sound from the hallway made my pulse jump. Then the latch finally clicked.
The door swung open, and Mason filled the frame. His eyes locked on me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
He stepped inside, closing the door with a quiet finality, his gaze never leaving mine. I drank him in like I was memorizing what was mine to keep. As he stripped out of his clothes, my fingers itched to draw the hard lines of his chest and shoulders. And I licked my lips at the thought of tracing his tattoos with my tongue.
My eyes tracked him as he crossed the room in slow, measured strides. My breath caught in my chest when he reached the chair and his fingers closed over the vest.
Holding it up between us, he didn’t say anything. But words weren’t needed right now. I knew what this meant—I was his.
This time, when he came to the side of the bed and handed me the leather vest, I took it. My fingers were steady as I slid my arms through the openings, but I gasped when he stepped in close and pulled it into place, fastening it with deliberate precision.