Page 56 of Property of Tacoma

For a moment, we stay frozen, both panting, before he carefully pulls out and rolls me onto my back.

“I have to go,” he says, his expression genuinely regretful as he struggles to catch his breath. “Club business.”

I nod, trying not to show my disappointment. “I understand.”

He leans down and kisses me softly. “Stay here,” he asks. “In my bed.”

I hesitate, feeling suddenly out of my depth.

His thumb brushes my lower lip, his eyes serious. “I’ll come back to you.”

Something in his voice, in the intensity of his gaze, makes me believe him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

He kisses me once more before reluctantly climbing out of bed.

I watch as he moves around the room, collecting his clothes and getting dressed.

When he’s fully clothed, he comes back to the bed and presses a final kiss to my forehead.

“Make yourself at home,” he says. “There’s food in the kitchen if you get hungry.”

I nod, pulling the sheet up to cover myself.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” he adds, heading for the door. “Try to get some rest.”

As the door closes behind him, I flop back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling.

What am I doing here?

This man—this beautiful, dominant, complicated man—has somehow slipped past all my defenses in less than a day.

I’m in way over my damn head.

And the scariest part?

I don’t think I want to find my way back to the surface.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I push open the heavy wooden door to the chapel and instantly get hit with five pairs of eyes all locked on me like lasers.

The knowing smirks on their faces tell me everything I need to know before a single word is spoken.

“Jesus,” I mutter, making my way to the head of the table.

Bane, sitting in his chair to the right of mine with his busted face looking even worse now that the bruising has set in, grins like the cat who ate the canary. His eyes are practically dancing with glee despite the stitches in his eyebrow.

“You fucked her,” he says, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

I keep my face neutral as I drop into my seat, though I’m fighting the urge to smile like a damn teenager who just got his first piece of ass. “Shut the fuck up.”

Journey snorts from his spot across the table. “Look at this fucker. He’s glowing.”

“Glowing?” Bash chimes in, his dark eyes lit with amusement. “Man’s practically radioactive.”

“All of you can go fuck yourselves.”