Okay, damn, this felt nice. Beautiful. Special. Perfect.
Maybe I wasn’t wrong a week ago because this felt right.
Really right.
Dreamy.
I snuggled closer. Tack’s arm around my waist tightened unconsciously before it went loose again and a second later, I fell back to sleep.
* * * * *
I was being lifted and I opened my eyes to see weak light in the room.
It was dawn.
My arm automatically slid around Tack’s neck and I whispered, “Tack.”
“Sh, baby,” he whispered back, walking and carrying me.
I pressed my forehead into his neck and sighed.
Then I felt myself going down and I was in my bed, head on my pillow. I turned to my side and my eyes slid to him to see Tack standing beside the bed pulling the covers over me.
“Are you leaving?” I asked quietly.
“Got things to do,” he answered just as quietly.
“Okay,” I whispered, my eyes drifting closed and, as they did this, I felt the sweet sweep of his thumb across the apple of my cheek.
Then I felt his presence leaving me, my eyes drifted open and I saw he’d almost made it to my bedroom door.
“Tack?” I called, he stopped and turned.
“Yeah, baby.”
“Thanks for dinner.”
He grinned and it was no less sexy when I was half asleep.
“You’re welcome darlin’,” he replied and I grinned back as my eyes drifted closed again. Then I heard a muttered, “Pepperoni next time,” before I fell back to sleep.
Chapter Six
We Play This My Way
I was in my office at Ride. It was the Thursday after the second Saturday night I’d spent with Tack. The second Saturday night I’d mistaken him for my motorcycle dream man. The second Saturday night where I made the way wrong decisions and acted so stupid I’d humiliated myself.
Four and a half days of nothing from Tack. Not one thing.
This did not mean I didn’t see him. I saw him. I saw him roaring in on his bike. I saw him standing outside the Compound talking to his biker brethren. I saw him working in the garage.
I did not see him anywhere around me. He didn’t come into the office and he didn’t pay another surprise visit to my house. But he was at Ride and he was either doing a bang up job of avoiding me or he forgot I existed.
Now I was a slut and an idiot and I decided that being a slut was more fun. A lot more fun. Being an idiot, melting toward Tack, letting him in over beer, pizza, sad movies and snuggling on my couch only to have him shut me out was not fun at all.
He’d used me. He needed a place to crash that Naomi couldn’t find so he showed at my door with pizza and turned on the biker charm to get what he needed to keep clear of his crazy, bitchy, stalker ex-wife.
And I’d let him. I’d even thanked him for a dinner I didn’t want to eat in the first damned place.