Motorcycle Man (Dream Man #4)(82)

“I was right. You were asleep but you were dreamin’. You dream in black and white, babe. I gave you color. Now, you’re awake.”

“Tack –”

“You admitted it.”

“Tack, please –”

“You were drunk, wet, hot and way the f**k turned on but you still admitted it.”

I did and the way he was looking at me, his blue eyes drilling into mine, I couldn’t deny it.

And also, it was true.

Damn.

“I’m in no state so can we not talk about this?” I requested.

“Yeah, we can not talk about this. Just want it confirmed you get that you gave that to me.”

“I get that I gave that to you,” I whispered, powerless to do anything but.

“Okay, baby, then now I’ll confirm that you get what it means to me.”

I stayed silent and stared.

Tack didn’t stay silent.

“Seen a lot, done a lot, met a lot of people. Most of ‘em, I like. Some of ‘em, I don’t. Some of ‘em, I hate. But did so much and knew so many, the unexpected is rare. I color your world, you give me the unexpected. We’re now totally balanced, Red. You didn’t know it but you had the upper hand. Now I know what I give you, it means as much as what you give me, we’re on the same level. And I like it like that.”

He was kind of freaking me out.

And, contradictorily, he was kind of not.

Either way, I couldn’t deal with this hungover.

“Stop talking, Tack.”

“I will when you assure me you took in what I said.”

“I took in what you said,” I replied quietly.

“Are you processing it?”

“I’m hungover, Tack.”

“You got the day to process it. You also got the day to get over that hangover. Tabby says she’s cookin’ tonight which means you’re on the back of my bike tonight and spendin’ the night at my place.”

My heart was pumping fast and my stomach was roiling.

“You’re talking about food again, Tack.”

“Pack a bag.”

“Okay.”

“No, I mean pack a bag.”

I blinked.

Then I asked, “Pardon?”

“You’re gonna be spendin’ lots of nights in my bed in the mountains, babe. Come equipped to do that. I’ll load the saddlebags on the bike.”

My mind was whirling.

“Tyra, did you hear me?”

“Saddlebags. Come equipped. Tabby making dinner. I heard.”

“Good.”

“Coffee, Tack.”

“Right.”

“And aspirin.”

“You got it, baby.”

He touched his mouth to mine and I concentrated on not hurling as he rolled and angled out of bed making it shift and sway in a way that was supremely nauseating. When he was out, I rolled to my side, shoving my hands under my cheek and concentrated on his fantastic body as he yanked on his jeans finding this helped you forget you were hungover, if only for seconds. Still, it worked.

What worked better was, once he had his jeans on, him turning to the bed, bending over, putting a hand into it, arm straight, other arm stretched to me so his hand could come to his jaw and his thumb could sweep the apple of my cheek.

Yes, during that maneuver, I totally forgot I was hungover.

Then he moved away and was at the door when he stopped and his eyes came to me.

At the look in them, I braced.

“You have no clue,” he whispered.

“No clue about what?” I whispered back.

“What you handed me last night.”

I took in a deep breath and asked softly, “What did I hand you, honey?”

“What’s lyin’ in that bed.”

That was when I stopped breathing.

“I claimed it,” he went on. “But last night you gave it to me. Gift’s given, no takin’ it back. You get that, Tyra?”

“I think so,” I whispered.

“Get that, baby, it’s important.”

I didn’t have it in me to do anything but nod.

He took in my nod. Then his eyes shifted down my body in the bed.

When they came back to my face, he said gently “Coffee and aspirin,” and he disappeared.

I rolled to my back, ignored my queasy stomach and fuzzy head and stared at the ceiling, replaying last night.

It was awesome, from start to finish. I was losing Lanie which sucked and I hoped she came back soon. But last night, I gained an entire posse and that felt good.

And knowing Tack didn’t mind having more kids, actually wanted them was way better.

Then I replayed that morning.

It was awesome too. Most definitely.

“Roller coasters aren’t so bad,” I whispered to the ceiling.

Then I smiled.

* * * * *

Five hours later, I was at Ulta buying stuff to take up to Tack’s when my phone rang in my purse. I yanked it out, looked at the display, grinned, took the call and put the phone to my ear.

“Hey honey,” I said softly, grabbing a bottle of my shampoo.

“Like that,” Tack’s gravelly voice came at me. Then he asked, “How you doin’?”

“Not great but better. I’m at Ulta getting supplies for your bathroom.”