Rock Chick Renegade (Rock Chick #4)(122)

Surprisingly he didn’t hesitate in giving his response, clearly not sharing my moonlight restrictions on deep, meaningful, soul-shattering conversations.

“Making you come, watching you come, hearin’ you say my name when you do.”

Well one thing you could say for that, it had a theme.

He wasn’t finished. “Not knowin’ what ridiculous shit is gonna come out of your mouth and make me smile, Yoko Ono, learnin’ to knit, namin’ your car Hazel.”

Okay, I was back to needing the moonlight. That was too much. Especially since his face had changed and so had the air. He still had that warm and soft look but somehow it was mingled with intensity and I didn’t know what was going to come next. What I did know was that I wasn’t going to be prepared for it whatever it was.

“Crowe –”

I was right, he’d saved the real whammy for last and I wasn’t prepared for it.

When he spoke again, his voice had that fierce undercurrent and it slid across my skin, shrouding me in velvet. “Knowin’ I got something to live for now that you’re mine. Keepin’ it that way, workin’ at keepin’ this good like it is right now.”

I stopped breathing and he kept talking.

“I can go back now, to the rez, to my family with you on the back of my bike.”

My lungs started burning with lack of oxygen but that was okay considering my heart had also stopped beating. I figured I was going to die at any moment and I was totally fine with that.

Vance continued. “They can see that, despite them, I made it to the other side, passed their shit. While they lived their dysfunction, I worked my way to something better, ridin’ up with you wrapped around me.”

I butted in, it took a great deal of effort, mainly because I was overwhelmed by what he was saying. “Vance, you’re defined by more than just me giving my virginity to you.”

After I said that he kissed me softly then he did it again then again. Then his face an inch away from mine he said, “You’re right, Princess. That’s not what I’m sayin’. It isn’t about that, though that was a bonus. Even if I hadn’t been your first, I still would claim you as mine. But any man is defined by the woman who shares her bed with him.”

“That isn’t true.”

“It is and it works the other way too.”

Oh my God.

Did he really think that?

“Crowe –”

“Which means, if someone like you, someone as unbelievably beautiful as you, as crazy and sweet as you, filled with attitude and courage with her heart in the right place, in a lot of right places even though her head normally isn’t… if someone like you shares her bed with me, then that says something about me.”

Oh… my… God.

(I was going to let the comment about my head not being in the right place slide because the rest of it was so f**king nice.)

“Vance –”

“Shut up, Jules.”

I decided to give up telling him not to tell me to shut up and desperately looked for a different topic that was safe for morning discussions. I needed to move on, process this later perhaps in the night-time hours with the moonlight coming in the window and Vance asleep while we were test-driving another Most Favorite Sleeping Position.

Finally I blurted, “You never answered me. Do you like The Beatles?”

He stared at me a beat then said, “What?”

“The Beatles. Do you like them?”

He totally had my number. I knew it when the intensity slid away, a slow grin spread on his face and he kissed me softly again. Thankfully, he let the moonlight conversation go and I knew this was because he knew I needed him to let it go… for now.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Stevie Wonder?”

“Yeah,” he repeated.

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, that’s a load off my mind.”

He shook his head again, eyes amused, then he switched the subject. “Today, I want you checkin’ in with me regularly and if you can’t get through to me then call the surveillance room. Yeah?”

I nodded. I could do that, that didn’t sound hard.

Vance carried on. “I’ll get a panic button from the office. I’ll give it to you at Fortnum’s.”

Um.

No.

I scrunched my nose. A head crackin’ mamma jamma with a panic button? I didn’t think so.

Vance’s relaxed grin faded. “I’m not arguing about this, Jules. You either take the panic button or you got a bodyguard whether you want one or not. Your choice. You’re protected one way or the other until we pick up Shard, Jermaine and Clarence and convince them to change their minds.”

Hmm.

Macho-speak.

My eyes narrowed.

“Chose, Jules.”

“Is there a door number three?” I asked.

“Yeah, they can pick you up, gang rape you repeatedly while alternately beatin’ the shit out of you until you wished you were dead. Then I’d have to hunt them down and kill them and, after that, I’d spend the rest of my life in prison. That’s door number three.”

Um.

Yikes.

“I choose the panic button,” I said immediately.

His body relaxed, he kissed my forehead again and said, “Wise choice.”