Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(68)

I closed my eyes and dropped my forehead to his shoulder.

Damn.

Yes. This definitely felt like I had my dream man.

“You really can’t handle sweet,” he noted on a mutter.

“No, I really can’t,” I replied to his shoulder and his arm came around so his fingers could sift into my hair.

“Fair warning, Red, you’re gonna have to suck it up.”

A startled laugh fluttered out of my throat and I lifted my head to look at him. And when I did, I saw his handsome head resting on my pillow, I felt his hard, warm body under mine and I liked both so much it hurt. But in a good way.

Therefore, stupidly, I blurted, “I like you here.”

His eyes warmed, his fingers curled around the back of my head and he murmured, “Red.”

“Please take care of this with me,” I whispered.

His head gave a slight jerk then his eyes focused intensely on mine.

“The reason you haven’t been tied to a man,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You’ve been f**ked over,” he guessed inaccurately.

But I couldn’t tell him the reason I wanted him to help me take care of what we had. It was too new. Way too new. I didn’t trust it yet. I couldn’t trust him with the knowledge that he colored my world.

He knew, in essence, that I feared what he made me feel.

He just didn’t get how big it was.

And I wasn’t ready to share that with him.

“Men are men and they do stupid shit that hurts, handsome, but that’s not it,” I shared. “But I’ll tell you what it is. Later. Tonight, let’s just have this.”

He was silent a moment, eyes holding mine, then he replied, “I’ll give you that play.”

I grinned at him and whispered, “Thanks.”

He grinned back and used his hand at my head to pull my mouth to his.

Once he’d touched my lips lightly to his, he let me back a couple of inches and asked, “Your pu**y get enough or does it need more attention?”

“I think it’s good,” I answered then finished, “for now.”

His eyes danced again. “You’ll tell me, I need to get down to business.”

“I’ll keep you in that loop.”

I watched his eyes dance more before he asked softly, “You wanna clean up or sleep with me inside you?”

I felt my heart flutter at this question. I liked the intimacy of it. I liked the language he used. What I never liked was sleeping after sex without cleaning up. But the way he asked that made me want to keep him with me.

So I answered quietly, “You inside me.”

“Good, baby, now shift under the covers,” he ordered but he was still talking softly.

I liked that too.

Moving with Tack, I shifted under the covers. He twisted to turn the light off on his side of the bed and I rolled to turn the light off on mine. Then he claimed me and settled us exactly as we were before, me tucked to his side, my cheek to his shoulder, arm around his gut and his arm under me, wrapped around, hand resting on my waist.

This, I’d never had. Five lovers, two longish term, none were cuddlers. And I knew Tack was one because he settled us this way, because he’d curled into me the only other time we slept in the same bed and he’d snuggled with me when we slept on my couch.

And I liked this too.

“Thank you for dinner. It was yummy,” I murmured to his chest in the dark and this was no lie. His chops and stuffing rivaled his fajitas. His potatoes were so good, they rivaled his pancakes. And he melted butter to pour on his green beans and sprinkled them with real, crispy bacon bits. The dinner was a triple pork threat. The calories and fat it contained had to be off-the-charts. It was also divine.

“Glad you liked it, darlin’.”

“Is the office going to be a nightmare now that I’ve had two unexpected days off?” I asked.

“Don’t know. Don’t work in the office. But you’ll find out tomorrow.”

This was true.

I kept talking. “Do you cook like that all the time?”

“It’s worth eatin’, it’s worth puttin’ the time in to make it taste good.”

This was true too.

“So is that a yes?”

“No, it isn’t a yes. It’s a, if I cook, I do it right. But a lot of the time I don’t have the time so it’s takeout.”

“Even when you have your kids?”

“Even when I have the kids. Though sometimes Rush or Tabby’ll get a wild hair and try something. Rush has inherited his old man’s talent in the kitchen. Tabby gets workin’ near a stove, it’s a crapshoot.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, finding this both interesting and his telling of it sweet. Then I asked, “What’s that red car you’re working on?” and when I did, Tack burst out laughing.

I lifted my head and looked at him through the dark. “What’s funny?”

“Babe, you goin’ to sleep or we gonna have a conversation in the dark?”

“I thought we were getting to know each other.”

“We are and we did, in a lot of ways, Red. You provin’ you can ride me even harder and faster than that first night we had together bein’ my favorite part. But now I’m wiped. You wanna talk, store that shit up and we’ll do it at my place tomorrow night.”