Rock Chick Reckoning (Rock Chick #6)(143)

I thought about it, pressing my lips together then I said,

“Al right. Three.”

I saw, even in the moonlight, the looks of satisfaction and amusement that passed on his face and I realized he’d only ever wanted three kids.

He’d just played me.

“You’re annoying,” I told him.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” he said back.

His hand went up my back and into my hair, tipping my head down and then pressing my face into his throat. It moved away from my head but stayed tangled in my hair and I felt his fingers start to play with a tendril.

We kept our silence and lay stil and comfortable in each other’s arms.

Final y, I asked, “You tired?”

“Wiped,” he answered.

I pressed deeper and kissed his throat.

“Any chance of nighttime sex?” I asked there.

He waited a beat then dropped to his back, taking me with him. In a flash, his hands were on my nightie, going up and then the nightie was gone.

“You want it, you gotta do al the work,” he answered.

I smiled.

I wanted it so I was wil ing to do al the work.

In fact, I didn’t often get a chance to do al the work, so I was looking forward to it.

* * * * *

It was some time later, I was on top, Vance inside me. I was moving at my pace and enjoying every stroke. One of his hands was at my hip, the other one between my legs, creating magic. “Closer, Princess,” he muttered and I leaned toward him.

The fingers on his Magic Hand moved and I had to stop my descent to throw back my head and moan.

“Closer,” he repeated when I’d stopped moaning (but I had started panting) and I got closer.

My face was in his face, his hand not between my legs went from my hip into my hair.

It fisted right before he said, his voice husky, his breath short, “I love to watch you ride me. Do you know how f**kin’

beautiful you are?”

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” I returned on a pant because he was seriously causing some sensations between my legs and I was about ready to explode.

He didn’t answer my question, instead, against my mouth, he noted, “You’re close.”

I nodded.

“I wanna hear it,” he told me, his voice had moved from husky to hoarse and I knew what he meant.

“Vance,” I whispered, like I always whispered, always, right before he made me come.

* * * * *

“Jules,” Vance said sharply in my ear, his arm, tight around my midriff, was shaking me.

I jolted awake, sweating and breathing heavily. When I opened my eyes, the shocking, bloody images from my subconscious were stil vivid.

“I’m awake,” I whispered but I was trembling and I felt Vance’s lips against my neck and his arm stayed tight. “I’m okay,” I told him.

“I want you to see someone about these f**kin’

nightmares,” he growled against my skin.

I had nightmares about what happened, mainly, that I shot someone in the head and kil ed them. Sometimes, I’d dream about me getting shot but mostly it was about me taking another person’s life.

“After this current drama is over,” I told him.

“Promise me, Jules,” he demanded.

I scooted backwards and nestled my bottom into his groin. “I promise.”

We fel silent and I waited for him to fal asleep like he normal y did after he woke me from a nightmare.

He didn’t fal asleep.

Instead, he said, “You did what you did because you are who you are. I wouldn’t change one piece of you. You did it for Roam. You did it for survival.”

“I know,” I said softly.

Vance pressed closer. If you’d asked me if he could get closer, I would have said no but he did.

“He was scum, Princess,” he murmured to the back of my head. “If we’d had two minutes to get to him, if Luke and I made it to him before shots were fired, either one of us would have taken him down. And doin’ it wouldn’t give either of us nightmares.”

“I know,” I repeated.

“He’d already kil ed Cordova. He’d beat the shit out of Roam and would have kil ed him too. You did what you had to do.”

I closed my eyes tight and said, “I was the reason he was on a rampage.”

“You blow his sister’s head off while he watched?” Vance asked.

My body went stil as his point penetrated deep.

“Of course not,” I whispered.

He put a hand to my midriff and pushed me to my back then he went up on an elbow and looked down at me.

“You poured vegetable oil on dealers’ cars. You threw smoke bombs. Retaliation for that isn’t murder.” He was right.

“You’re right,” I told him. “Except it was canola oil,” I corrected to lighten the mood.

Vance didn’t feel like lightening the mood.

“What are the alternatives for that night?” he asked me and I blinked.

“What?”

“You’re a good shot. You could have kept him alive even though he was aimin’ to kil . You kept aimin’ to maim, what would have happened?”

“He probably would have shot me in the head,” I told him and this was true.