While she was big, she could always decide for herself what to eat.
As long as it was something he approved of.
Yes, he was a caveman.
And no, he didn’t fucking care.
Ink had learned a long time ago that he wasn’t going to apologize for the messed-up ass that he could be. Luckily, he had plenty of redeeming qualities. Like what he could do with his tongue. His fingers. His mouth.
So she’d ended up with an oven-baked chicken breast along with some grilled vegetables while his plate held a steak about as big as his face.
Perfect.
She pushed her plate away with a sigh, rubbing her tummy. He eyed the mostly full plate but decided against saying anything. Yet.
But her diet was something he was going to address eventually.
“You want another drink, brown eyes?”
She’d nearly finished her white wine. He’d stuck to soda in case she needed him to drive her home. While he usually had a one-beer allowance when he was driving, he wouldn’t even drink that much if she was in the car.
Precious cargo.
“Oh no, thank you. Truth is, I feel a bit tipsy just from that one drink.”
“You’re not driving home then. I can take you. Or I can see you into a taxi.”
“I…that…” She leaned up and shocked the shit out of him by kissing him. It wasn’t normal for her to make the first move. But he soon got over his surprise and returned the kiss. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, holding her there as he tasted her, drank from her, as her scent wrapped around him.
His dick, which had only just calmed down from when he’d been fingering her, hardened, pressing against his jeans.
When he finally allowed her to draw back, her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen.
“What was that for? Not that I didn’t like it. Hell, you can kiss me anytime you like, but it’s not usual for you to…” Shit. He was rambling. He took a deep breath then reached for his glass of water.
“I…I…just wanted to know,” she muttered weirdly.
“Know what?”
“What it would be like to do that. You’re a good man, Ink. I think you might be the best man I’ve ever met.”
“Because I offered to drive you home?” What kind of assholes had she known in her life?
Plenty, he was guessing, if any of them had put that sadness in her eyes. Had made her shy away from others' touch.
He hated that. That she’d been hurt in the past.
“Brown eyes, any decent man would offer to see you home safe.”
“But there aren’t a lot of decent men out there, are there?” she mused. “At least not from what I’ve seen.”
“I’d trust any of my friends with your safety. They’re decent men. They give their word, they mean it.”
“Your friends in your biker gang.”
“We’re a motorcycle club. The Iron Shadows.”
“Interesting name. How did you become a part of them?”
He shrugged. “After I was discharged from the Special Forces, I was kind of lost. I was useless to them.”
“Useless?”
Christ. He had opened this can of worms. Was he really going to talk to her about it? “I was stationed in Afghanistan. We…there was a village. The enemy had gone through it.” He swallowed at the memories. She reached over and took his hand in hers. Her hand was as cool as ever, but it was what he needed right then. To bring him back to the here and now.
“What we didn’t know was that there were insurgents waiting for us. They’d staged it. Took out half of my team. I had this bad feeling before we went in. But I was young and nobody thought my instinct meant anything at all. Between what I’d seen of the bodies of the villagers and losing our team members, I must have gone on a rampage. Don’t remember much. Lost it apparently. Got myself an honorable discharge. Apparently, I was lucky to get that. Yeah, lucky to come home with PTSD and a head filled with nightmares.”
“Oh, Ink.” She laid her face against his shoulder.
“Shit. That took a dark turn, didn’t it?” He tried to lighten his voice.
“You don’t always have to make things right for me, you know.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to try to make things better. I know you do that. My fault. Because of the way I am. I know I don’t always react well to things. Touch. Loud noises. Lara getting punished.” She grinned at him. “But I can handle the dark stuff. Trust me, I’ve lived