Page 68 of Property of Necro (Kings Of Anarchy MC: Illinois #1)

We shower together, which is a tight fit, but he scrubs me, and I scrub him. We take turns washing each other’s hair. He squats down so I can scrub his scalp and help rinse the suds. Once we’re done, Rot hops out first and wraps a fresh towel around his waist before returning to dry me.

When I attempt to snatch the towel from him, he growls.

“Rot, I can dry myself.”

He grunts and forces me to turn around so he can get my backside, where he pays extra special attention to my butt and between my thighs. The man kneels on the tile floor and spreads my cheeks.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Mind your business.”

“Pretty sure, this is my business. It’s my body. ”

“Not anymore, it’s not. It’s mine. We’re getting married, remember?”

Ugh! This man.

“My body is still mine, even when we’re married, Rot.”

Another grunt fills the air as his breath brushes over my asshole before he leans in and licks the rim.

“Rot!” I gasp, and he kisses me there, soft and sensual.

“Mmmm?”

“We don’t have time.” I swat his hand on my butt.

“There’s always time for sex,” the damn sex fiend states.

“Rot.” I laugh and swat him again.

“Shhhh. I’m busy.”

“Rot! We don’t have time.” Trying to step away proves to be impossible when he grips my hips and forces me in place as he continues to kiss and love on my ass. I grow wet. Of course, I do. It’s impossible not to. But we genuinely don’t have the time. I need to get ready.

“Five minutes,” he grunts.

Wrenching around, I grab a fistful of Rot’s damp hair and attempt to yank him from my bottom. “No, you insane horn dog.”

Grunting, he doubles down, and no matter how hard I pull, he doesn’t stop nuzzling my back door, kissing it, licking it, getting it nice and wet. “I just wanna make you come. Just once.”

“Later.”

“No. Red. Now. Please.” He whines like a little boy who’s had his favorite toy taken away.

Knowing if we start, we won’t stop, I pry his strong fingers from my hips, and finally, Rot lets go.

Slipping around him, I pick up the towel he tossed on the floor and tuck it around my chest as I collect a foundation from the mess of products on the ground.

Rot gets up, steals the product from my hand, and tosses it in the trash.

I gasp. “What are you doing?”

“No foundation.”

Excuse me?

“Why?”

“You’ll cover your freckles.”

“So?”

“We love your freckles.”

Oh. They do?

Well, I guess that makes sense.

“Okayyy… then why did you buy it?” I ask.

“I didn’t.” Rot picks up more products and tosses them in the trash. “Coffin got this stuff. On his last run, he went to one of those expensive beauty stores, showed them a picture of you, and they loaded him up.”

Um. I did not expect that. This is more up Rot’s alley than Coffin’s. Someone must have twisted his arm.

“Did he complain?”

“About what?”

“Going to a store like that.”

“No.” Rot frowns like he doesn’t get the question. “Why would he?”

“Because that sounds like torture for him.”

“It was for you, and it was his idea.”

Oh.

“It was?”

Rot nods and kisses my cheek. As we get ready together, my mind whirls a thousand miles an hour, trying to picture Coffin in a beauty store, talking to women without snarling at them.

I snicker at the thought as Rot helps me into my dress and buttons up the back.

We work together to tame my wild curls and select the perfect shade of nude lipstick to complement the sexy Gothic vibe.

Once we’re finished, Rot steps back, whistles, and fans his face. “Damn.”

“What?” I twirl.

“If it wouldn’t rip your dress, I’d bend you over the bed and fuck the life outta you.”

“If you did that, I’d be dead.”

Rot throws his head back and laughs—deep and yummy. “Christ, Red. Never change. Ever. You’re perfect.”

I’m not.

Not even close.

But I’m okay with that. Nobody’s perfect.

Dodging his compliment, I address his outfit selection. “If I’m wearing this…” I sweep a hand down the length of my dress. “What are you wearing?”

“This.” He mimics me.

“Jeans and boots?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Is that a problem?”

Chewing my bottom lip, I think about it for a moment. Is it a problem I’m getting married today, and one of my future husbands is rocking a pair of holey jeans and worn leather boots? Not really. He looks great.

Rot opens the top dresser drawer and pulls out a bowtie. He wraps it around his throat and clips it in the front. It’s solid black, making him look like a Chippendales dancer .

Arms thrown wide, he lifts his chin. “Is this any better?”

“No,” I sputter, trying hard not to laugh.

“Sola,” Rot deadpans.

“Rot,” I mimic, using his same unimpressed tone.

“Are you trying not to laugh at your husband?” His nose wrinkles the cutest way.

“Maybe?” I shrug, playing into our flirty antics.

“You don’t like the bowtie?” Rot flicks this stupid thing and grins.

“No. I don’t like the bowtie. I’m marrying a biker, not a dancer.”

Unfastening the accessory, he tosses it onto the bed. “Fine. Then I guess it’s time to get married.” Offering me his elbow, Rot escorts me to the door, where he pauses and looks down at me. “Last chance to back out.”

I snort. I can’t help it.

My last chance to back out?

I'm pretty sure the last chance I had to back out of anything was before I arrived here in the first place. Once I walked through those church doors, this has been my home, for better or worse.

I open my mouth to reply, but Rot beats me to it.

“Too late. Time’s up.” He winks, and oh, what that does to my insides, even now, as he leans down and pecks my cheek.

“Look at it this way, Red.” He drags his nose up to my temple.

“Most women get a single, boring dick for the rest of their lives. You get three.”

“Three boring dicks?” My lips twitch.

“No.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you said. ”

“Red.”

“What?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said.”

Growling in frustration, Rot nips my cheek. “If you don’t stop sassing back, I’m gonna fill your mouth with my cock right now.”

“Promise?” I bat my sexy lashes at him.

He blows out a breath. “Christ. Woman.”

“What? I like—” Covering my mouth with his hand, effectively shutting me up, Rot orders me to close my eyes as he escorts me wherever we need to go, and I giggle.

I can’t help it. Getting under his skin is one of my favorite things.

It riles him up, as evidenced by the thickness prodding my back as he guides me to the front church steps where we first met.

Releasing me, Rot quickly kisses my cheek and hands me over to Creature, then dashes back inside before I can ask what the plan is.