“You're taking me or I'll have one of my men take me,” she warned, brow raised, daring me to push it.
“One more day,” I tried to reason as Malcolm grinned down at me like an idiot knowing, like I knew as well, that I was going to lose.
“One hour,” she countered, looking a bit like she was trying to stop a smile.
“Listen here,” I said in a very dad-tone, trying not to laugh when her eyes widened, “Willow 'Lo' Swift, I am absolutely not taking your ass all busted up into town to pound on the guy who put you into a hospital bed. You need to heal up.”
“Know what I don't need?” she started, lifting that damn brow again. “Aside from time to 'heal up', that is? I don't need a man thinking he can be telling me what and when I can do things. So tone that shit down, get in on this, or get the fuck out of my way.”
I was annoyed, sure, that she was risking her healing by getting up so soon, but I respected her stubbornness, her urge for revenge. They'd have to strap me to a bed if I were in her position. “Oh, I'm in on this,” I agreed, rocking back on my heels, slipping my hands into my pockets. “Just wanted to make it clear I wanted my woman to get her ass back in bed and heal and all that shit that I'm supposed to say.”
“Your woman?” she asked, forehead wrinkling up, but there was no mistaking that melty-softness I saw in her eyes. She liked that. She wanted that... to be mine.
“Yep.”
“What if I don't want to be your woman?”
“Well that's just too damn bad because you already are, Wills.”
She stiffened suddenly, her whole body going ramrod straight and fuck if I knew for what. She took a breath and noticeably forced herself to relax. “You think so, huh?” she asked, but the teasing was out of her voice.
Beside her, Malcolm was pressing his lips together to keep from smiling as I closed in on Lo, getting my front all up against hers as I pressed my fists into the wall behind her, caging her in. My head tilted and dipped toward her ear so only she could hear. “Second I got a taste of that sweet pussy, baby, you were mine. And, what's more, you wanted to keep being mine.”
Her breathing was a little shallow and I felt my cock twitching at the idea of getting to be inside her again once she was all healed. “Pretty sure of yourself, huh?”
I pressed a kiss against her neck and smiled there. “Fuckin' A.”
Her chest shook with a little silent laugh.
I pulled back, still caging her in, and laid it down. “I get you gotta do this. Can't blame you. I got my shots in and I'm still itching for more and the fuck didn't do shit to me.” Her hand raised to the side of my face and touched the outline of my cut, her eyes like a challenge. “Like I said... ain't shit.” She smiled and rolled her eyes at me. “Like I said, I get it. I ain't gonna try to keep you here. But we go, you say your piece, you put a bullet between his eyes... whatever the fuck you need. But you don't do anything to rip open those stitches and then you get your ass back here and get back into that bed, yeah?”
“Depends,” she said with an almost dainty shrug.
“On?”
“Are you gonna be in that bed with me?” she asked with a coy smile.
“If I ain't got somewhere better to be,” I teased and tried not to smile when her face went hard. Her emotions were like a switch being flicked and it was fuckin' cute as all hell. Not that I would ever tell her that. She'd probably balk at that word, but it was the damn truth. “Babe, there ain't nowhere else I'd rather be,” I leveled with her, my tone soft, my eyes on hers.
Her shoulders slumped a little and she gave me a ghost of a smile. “So are we done gabbing like a couple chicks so we can go kick some ass?” With that, she took off toward the cars parked to the side of the property.
“Any chance I can keep her from kicking shit?” I asked Malcolm, knowing what the answer was going to be.
His smile was almost paternal as he watched her walk away for a second before turning his gaze to me. “I'll let Mike know she's probably gonna need to be stitched up again,” he said, slapping a hand on my shoulder then walking away.
“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head at life in general as I ran to catch up to her, pushing her reluctantly toward the passenger side. “Babe, you can't even sit back. Not safe for you to drive.”
With that, and only a small grumble at being 'treated like an invalid' (that was her new favorite phrase when she got into a mood about people telling her she shouldn't do something), she got in and let me drive.
“Just saying... if this is some macho 'my ass is in the car, I'm driving' bullshit... it's not gonna fly long term. I like to drive.”
“Of course you do,” I smiled at the windshield.
“What's that smile for?”
“Nothin', babe,” I lied. “And don't worry. I'm comfortable enough in my masculinity that if my woman wants to drive, I will happily plant my ass passenger. But we're on my bike? I'm driving.”
“That's reasonable,” she said, nodding for emphasis.
“I'm nothing if not accommodating,” I added with a wink, pretending to ignore the fact that we were outlining some parameters to a relationship. Yeah, I didn't need to be thinking about that shit right then. Or ever. It was all new and foreign to me and if I gave it any kind of god damn thought at all, I'd probably be freaking out about it. My only saving grace seemed to be that Lo seemed as equally awkward and uncomfortable with the idea too. So we had that going for us. Though I was pretty sure having a mutual fear of commitment was probably not the greatest trait to share, but whatever.