Page 45 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

“Make me come again and we’ll see,” I grin as I kiss the stubble on his jaw.

His thrusts slow and my movements start to slow as I feel another orgasm rushing back to the surface. This time, when my walls tighten and I come around his cock, he comes with me, his arms wrapped around me, hugging me to his chest like he never wants to let go.

We remain connected for a few moments before he slowly lifts me and slides out of me.

He reaches into his top drawer for a napkin and uses it to clean me up before crumbling it and tossing it in the trash.

He then reaches for my discarded clothing on the ground and I grab it from him, rising from his lap to dress myself.

It’s then that I realize he never fully stripped.

He zips and buttons his trousers and adjusts his dress shirt and suit jacket all while I manage to get my top back on.

I freeze when it comes time to put my jeans back on and frown at him, “Seriously?”

“What?”

I roll my eyes, “Did you have to rip my panties? I have jeans.”

He chuckles, “I’m not going to apologize.”

I stifle a laugh as I put my jeans back on, “Remind me to keep extra pairs of panties in that drawer with my file in case this happens again.”

“You mean when this happens again,” he corrects.

I roll my eyes again as I pull my jeans up the rest of the way, zipping them up and buttoning them. He reaches for my hand and pulls me into his lap, kissing me again before he asserts, “Spend the night with me.”

I nod as I find his lips with mine.

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“I CAN NOT BELIEVE I’m putting up with this right now,” Dallas complains, his voice coming out a grumble from where he lays beneath me.

I look up, lifting my head from its very comfortable position on his chest, and frown at him, “Dallas, this is TV gold.”

He gives me a disbelieving look that says, You’re delusional and makes no comment. They learn so fast.

We’re cuddled up in his obscenely comfortable bed watching a reality TV show about female professional wrestlers and all of their petty dramas and third-world issues.

In case I ever have to wonder how I know this man cares about me, I’ll remind myself of this moment because I know for a fact that Dallas Carter would rather be at war than watching this, but he’s watching it for me because I wanted to watch it.

Two of the girls start arguing about who’s getting more TV time when he sighs, “I don’t like that one.”

“Which one?” I ask.

“The one with the red hair. She’s very agitating,” he explains.

“How so?” I press him. Truthfully, I’m not a fan of her either, but I want to hear his opinion.

He continues, “She’s trying to take TV time from the blonde and steal the whole show when they’re a tag team. They’re both supposed to get equal TV time. And wait till the blonde finds out that she’s been going behind her back and training with the best wrestlers to get better moves than her.”

As soon as he finishes his explanation, I start hysterically laughing, curling away from his chest and laughing with my back to him. A small chuckle escapes him, “What, am I wrong?”

I can’t stop laughing, “No,” I choke out through tears of laughter.

He reaches for me, curling his arm around my torso and pulling me closer, “What’s funny?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

I roll onto my back so I can look at his face as I laugh my ass off, “You’re so invested.”

“I am not,” he argues.

“You so are,” I chuckle. He tries his best to keep a straight face, but it doesn’t work for him. “And you’re smiling because you know it.”

He shakes his head, “No. I’m smiling because your laughter is contagious and I’ve never seen you laugh so hard.”

I wave my hand in the air to silence him, “No no no. You were spilling all of this rigamarole, talking about ‘this is garbage,’ ‘how can you watch this,’ and all this, but here you are, invested.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not invested.”

“Admit you are and I won’t expose you in the Satan’s Angels group chat,” I bargain.

He gives me a warning look, so I add, “The one with Harvey and Sly.”

He furrows his brows, “I’m also in that chat, did you forget?” He ponders something for a second and adds, “Wait, you said ‘the one.’ You guys have more than one chat?”

Another chuckle escapes, “Did you seriously think that Aria, Brody, Selene, and I would ever allow any of you into the chat for the girls?”

He frowns, “What goes on in that chat?”

I shake my head, “I am not at liberty to discuss.”

“You realize I could hack into that chat in seconds, right?” He asks, his brow raised.

I fix him with a glare, “You wouldn’t.”

“Who says I haven’t already?” He asks, his voice ominous.

I narrow my eyes at him, “The fact that you didn’t even know about the chat to begin with.”

His serious facade falters and he grins, “Good point, baby.”

He leans forward to kiss me, but I place two fingers over his lips to stop his lips from touching mine. I raise a threatening brow, “Have you ever hacked my texts?”

Dallas sighs against my fingers, “No,” his voice comes out muffled.

I continue to stare intensely at him even though I believe him.

After the file, he wouldn’t keep anything like this a secret from me.

We promised no more secrets. Besides, even before our promise, I know he would never invade my privacy like that.

If he did, he would know the chat existed to begin with.

He frowns, “I promised you no secrets. I would never hack your text messages.” His voice comes out disbelieving as if he can’t believe that I would ever believe such a thing.

I remove my fingers from his lips and kiss him chastely, “I know.”

He kisses me again and deepens it this time.

I feel my center growing slick with need and suddenly, we are rudely interrupted by his phone ringing.

He breaks the kiss for a second and kisses the tip of my nose, “I’ll silence it.

” He looks frustrated, like he wants to kill whoever dared interrupt what we were about to do, but also like he’s trying not to show it.

Too bad for him that he’s as transparent as a stripper’s clothes.

He reaches for his phone on his nightstand and I take the opportunity to ogle his bare chest. I’m admiring every ab muscle and defined oblique when he mutters, “Babe, I have to take this.” Ugh, how I love when he calls me that.

Wait, what? “Who is it?” Who could possibly be more important than what we were about to do? There’s a hint of annoyance in my tone.

He ignores me as he answers the phone, bringing it to his ear as he sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, his back to me. Under other circumstances, I would resort to ogling his back muscles, but he just ignored my question. And he answered the phone when we were about to have sex.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?” He greets whoever it is on the other end, his voice firm. It’s so unlike the way he speaks to me that I can’t garner who it might be. Could it be Harvey? No. He doesn’t call Harvey “buddy.”

I tap his back impatiently and he turns to look at me over his shoulder. I whisper, “Who is that?” And he holds up a finger and mouths, hold on.

Now he’s telling me to hold on? Yeah, not happening. I sit up and crawl to the edge of the bed next to him, facing him head on. He smirks at me but focuses on the conversation in his ear. “Yeah, I can help you with that.”

I tap his shoulder and mouth, no more secrets.

Dallas adds into the phone, “Hold on one second,” he takes the phone from his ear and presses a button, holding it up. “It’s on speaker. Sam, say hello to your sister.”

Sam?! Dallas is on the phone with my brother? Dallas called my brother buddy? Do they talk often? This seems like a standard occurrence in the way he answered the phone.

“Hi, sissy,” Sam teases from the phone speaker.

“Sam, why are you calling my boyfriend?” I ask my brother with absolutely zero patience in my voice.

“Because I need help with my homework,” he explains.

Dallas smirks at the use of the word “boyfriend” and adds, “I told him I would help him anytime.”

Dallas caring enough about my brother to help him with his homework warms my heart and causes a swarm of butterflies to throw a party in my stomach.

It means the world to me to know that he cares about me enough to do something like that for my family.

It makes those three little words I was thinking in his office come back to the forefront of my mind.

My face softens and I smile at him, “Thank you.”

He laughs, “Sam, hold on one sec, I have to mute myself.”

“Okay,” my brother responds suspiciously as Dallas clicks the mute button so that my brother can’t hear what he says next.

He kisses me and I kiss him back, “There’s no other reason I would ever interrupt our time together. You’re more important to me than any phone call. But Sam did text me earlier and ask for help tonight and I don’t want to break any promises.”

I shake my head, “It’s okay. We have all the time in the world. Thank you for doing this for him.” I plan on showing him just how grateful I am when he’s finished.

His hand lands on my thigh and he gently squeezes before he promises, “I’m gonna help him with this, I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” I grin at him and he kisses me one more time before he unmutes the phone.

He rises from the bed and walks out of the room and down the hall to where I know his office is, bringing the phone back to his ear. “Is that kid still fucking with you by the way? Because I handled it, but if he’s still being an asshole-”

I can’t hear the rest of what he says because his voice fades down the hall, but it warms my heart nonetheless. He’s been taking care of my brother behind the scenes for some time it seems. How did I get so lucky?

I pause the TV while I wait for him to return because let’s face it, there’s no way he’s getting out of this one.

While I wait, I lay back in my previous spot and open my phone.

I have a few texts from the girls sending wedding inspiration and a few from Nate telling me he misses me.

I return the sentiment before focusing on the girl’s chat where Aria suggests Brody get married at a gothic church, an idea that is immediately shot down by Brody.

Then we have some Brody and Aria bickering and then the usual Selene text telling everyone they’re stupid and to shut up.

You can call my friends many things and consistent is one of them.

I’m about to shut my phone off when I get a text from Dallas that reads, I was gonna wait but go in my nightstand drawer. There’s a small box in there. Open it.

Consider my interest piqued. I crawl over to his side of the bed and reach for his bedside drawer when I suddenly remember how Aria opened Sly’s drawer and found the phone that caused a ton of issues.

History will not be repeating itself today.

It can’t anyway. I didn’t make a sex tape.

I brush thoughts of the past aside as I open the drawer and spot two boxes.

One of them is a box of condoms and the other is a small blue box with a white ribbon.

I fire off a text to Dallas, Aw babe, you got me a box of condoms? Thank you xx

He responds right away, Very funny. You know what box I’m talking about.

I do. I reach for the blue box and quickly open it to find shimmering diamonds. But not just any diamonds. Pink diamonds. My eyes sparkle in excitement. Dallas got me a pink diamond tennis necklace. When did he get this? It’s so stunning I immediately want to put it on.

He texts me again, Do you like it?

I more than like it. I quickly type back, Come here and find out.

I hear heavy footsteps coming from down the hall and feel giddy anticipation in my chest. The door opens a moment later and he appears. His dark eyes land on the diamonds around my neck and he grins, “It looks beautiful on you.”

He walks towards the bed and sits down beside me. I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around his neck, “It’s so beautiful. Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

He cocks his head at me as if the idea is absurd, “I wanted to. Besides, it’s not often you come across pink diamonds and when your girl’s favorite color is pink, it would be a crime not to get them.”

I chuckle, “When did you get it?”

Dallas’ hands fall to my thighs, “About a week ago. I was gonna surprise you, but I couldn’t wait anymore.”

I’m about to kiss him when his phone rings again. I sigh, closing my eyes and resting my forehead against his, “I swear to God if that’s Sam-”

He blows out a breath, “It’s not.”

I open my eyes and glance at his phone which he’s displaying for me. My eyes practically pop out of my head. “My mother is calling you?”

Dallas accepts the call, “Hi, Tara,” his voice is polite.

“Hi, honey,” she greets him affectionately like he’s a long-lost son. She never calls Sam and me “honey.” I roll my eyes.

Dallas looks amused, “Is everything okay?”

She sighs dramatically on the other end, “The cabinet above the sink broke and I don’t know how to fix anything and you know Sam. The boy is better with makeup brushes than tools.” That is probably the truest thing my mother has ever said.

I frown, “Mom, hi, it’s your daughter. You don’t need to call my boyfriend for minor inconveniences when you have a brother.”

“Oh hi, Bootsie. I know, but your uncle and I got into an argument so we’re not talking right now,” she explains as if this is a common occurrence. Which it is.

I sigh, “Over what-”

She starts to answer, but I cut her off, “Actually, it doesn’t matter. Dallas is not your handyman. We also live on the other side of the country.”

Dallas snorts a laugh, “Tara, I’ll have someone come by tomorrow to fix it.”