“We’ll talk again after you’re dressed and updated.”
His words make me uncomfortable. I wrap my hand around his wrist. “Don’t leave me in limbo like that. Is my family okay?”
“They’re fine.” He licks his lips, and his eyes drop to my opposite hand. Looking down, I see the ivory lace panties that have fallen onto the bed.
“Oh.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it’ll look against your brown skin.” He wraps his opposite hand over mine, keeping us connected. The heat from his hand seeps into my skin, and the callouses feel good. I wonder what they’ll feel like running over other parts of my body. “The hardest part about caring for you has been ignoring your perfect curves. I want to explore every inch of them with my mouth.” His abrupt change has my head spinning. “I would never make a move while you were still incapacitated. But you’re wide awake now.”
“And still your prisoner,” I whisper shakily.
“I’d like to change your perception on that, Flower.”
The new nickname does funny things to my belly. “Why now?”
“Because I didn’t know what I was going to find when I tracked you down to that gas station, and it scared the holy shit out of me, Rian.” His use of my government name drives home his sincerity. “Denying it is pointless. It’s not gone away over the years.”
“Did you want it to?” I study him, confused about the strain around his mouth and eyes.
“It’d be better for you—”
“Do you think I’m incapable of making my own choices or ignorant about you and your life?”
“There are many things you don’t know about me, and if you did …” He shakes his head. “You might be singing a different tone.”
“Isn’t that the point of dating?” I’m jumping the gun, but letting him slip through my fingers when he’s finally speaking the words I longed to hear when I’m getting myself off and picturing his liquid brown eyes feels wrong.
“You just told me I’m keeping you in a prison cell. Now you want to talk about dating?”
“Both things can be true at once.”
His lips quirk upward. “Take a shower, put on the clothes I’ve bought you, and we’ll talk.”
“You like telling me what to do, Preacher?”
“I like watching you allow me to direct you. I have no illusions about your strength and independence.” His words are smoother than Tennessee whiskey.
“I don’t even know your first name.”
“Edmund.”
“Edmund.” I taste the six-letter word on my tongue, grinning when his eyes darken with want. “I think I’ll take your instruction this time.”
He licks his lips as the energy in the room ratchets up a notch. “We’ll see, Flower. I’ll leave you to it.” Winking, he spins on his heels and walks away with a new kind of swagger in his steps. I admire his firm ass in the dark denim and the strong stride that makes me feel safe despite the horrors I’d experienced.
* * *
Grateful to be out of the small room, I take in the sleek, modern lines and chrome installed in the masculine space. Brothers are seated at long bench tables, the bar, and playing pool and foosball. There’s a small section of arcade games in the back. Walking slowly at Preacher’s side with fresh bandage and clothes, I feel more like myself. I’d woken in the night multiple times, afraid I was in some strange purgatory because I’d died from my wounds. I can’t stop replaying the moment of impact to my shoulder. Sketched out, I move closer to Preacher, enjoying the solid brush of his body against mine. My stomach grumbles, and he smiles down at me.
“We’ll get you fed, Flower. Can’t bloom without the proper nourishment.”
“So, we’re sticking with this pet name?”
“You’re bright colors, sunshine, and warmth to me, Queenie. Seemed fitting enough.”
“Is that how you see me?” I whisper, astonished by how damn poetic the tattooed biker can be. He’s opening up and allowing me to see a new light. Underneath the leather and swagger is the heart and mind of a man with an insane depth. I want to learn all his secrets and dissemble him to learn how he ticks. The fascination is fast becoming an obsession. Peering up at him from beneath my lashes, I wonder if the intensity flows both ways.
“Always have.”