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“Yeah.” I blew out a breath of air.

“I’m more than you bargained for, aren’t I?”

“Definitely,” I said with a winsome smile. I reached for my jeans. “I need a hot shower, clean underwear, and a cup of coffee.”

“In that order?” he asked with a smile.

“Not necessarily.”

I padded toward him and gently placed my hands on his chest. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled, hauling me closer, his head dipping.

I sank into him and his touch, needing to feel our connection surge through me. When I was gasping for breath, I pulled away and pressed my cheek to his shirt and closed my eyes.

He moved his hand across my back and then wormed it under the shirt that I’d borrowed from him the previous night. “I got you a clean towel, but you’ll have to make do with Irish Spring and 2 in 1 shampoo and conditioner.”

I smiled into him. “That works.”

“As for the clean underwear situation… I suggest none.”

I let out a laugh. “You would suggest that.”

He stared down at me, grinning. “Coffee’s waiting for you when you’re done.” Boxer kissed the end of my nose and then stepped away. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Sticking around,” he said simply.

He left before I could muster a reply.

“I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” I murmured out loud to myself. “Not now.”

Chapter 21

My mind wasa swirl of thoughts. I hopped in the shower, hoping to clear it. While I was rinsing my hair, there was a quick knock on the bathroom door and then it opened.

“Linden?” Boxer called.

“Yeah?” I poked my head out from behind the shower curtain.

He leaned over and kissed me. It was quick, and then I ducked my head back into the steaming heat.

When I didn’t hear the door open, I asked, “Are you still in here?”

“Yup.” He paused. “I told you some dark shit last night.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“I wanted to make sure…fuck, I don’t know. Are you okay?”

I scrubbed my arm with a lather of bubbles. “You mean am I going to go on a dish-smashing spree?”

“Are you?”

“The problem with falling apart is that there’s always a chance you can’t scrape your feelings off the floor and stuff them back in the box where they belong.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. What if you let them out instead of getting to the point where they blow up the box you put them in?”


Tags: Emma Slate Blue Angels Motorcycle Club Romance