12
Jess
Time To Join A Convent
More rested than I expected I would be after last night’s adventures, sleeping on Kane’s chest allowed me a kind of peace I didn’t have the night Lance hurt me.
I dreamed of him. Of Kane.
I dreamed good dreams that included a million days of togetherness. A rainbow of experiences. Sex. Danger. Kissing. The stars. Lots of guns. Scary guns in his hands. The safety of a gun on his hip.
A barrage of memories we’ve yet to live.
Road trips. The ocean. Swimming under a waterfall. Sleeping under the stars.
But beneath it all, every imagined memory ended with his strong hands on my body. With slow and gentle strokes as we made love. With the large, gruff man I was once scared of, dropping to his knees and pleading for me.
Kane Bishop won’t go to his knees for anyone.
He’s too powerful. Formidable.
He’s just too big.
But in my dreams, he went to his knees in worship a million times.
I woke to just a tiny bit of leg humping. My face flamed red, his eyes danced at my expense, but with a kiss to my brow, he let me escape to the bathroom to pull myself together.
For a man who so often mentioned his dick when we first met, since my second run in in an alleyway, he’s been utterly respectful.
Like I’m breakable.
“Hey…” Frowning at my white old-lady-bra – because of its plainness – in the bathroom mirror, I pull a pair of Kane’s boxer briefs up my legs to replace the underwear that were stolen from me. “Kane?”
Popping his head into the bathroom in an instant, he flashes a filthy grin and leers at my exposed legs. “Yes, Blondie?” Okay. So notcompletelyrespectful. “Did you change your mind about the butt plug thing? Because I’ve never fucked anyone who wore my underwear before, but I’m up for trying new things.”
“No!” I pick up an empty toilet paper roll, cock my arm back, and fling it at his head. He doesn’t move a single muscle. Doesn’t dodge my missile. Nor does he blink.
And yet, the cardboard falls listlessly to the floor.
I can skate.
Ican’tthrow.
“Pig. That butt plug better be in the trash. It’s not mine!”
He leans against the doorjamb in nothing but sweatpants, and folds thick arms across the hundreds of tattoos that take up almost all of his skin. He watches me with a playful grin. “I don’t remember where I put it. Maybe the trash. Definitely not the bedside drawer just in case you changed your mind.”
Good lord, he didn’t throw it away.
“What do you want, Blondie? Or were you asking me in here to check out your granny bra?”
“No.” Pouting, I fold my arms across my chest and inadvertently push my breasts up. “I was going to ask what you’re doing today.”
“Today?” He drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “I dunno. I have to check in with the boss in a bit. But I don’t have to be anywhere until tonight.”
His boss. His stupid criminal fucking boss. “You should stop going there, Kane. Let me save you this time.”
“Nah.” Bouncing off the doorjamb, he lifts his chin. “What are you doing today?”