“When did you turn so romantic?” I ask, dragging my finger down his bicep through the thin material.
“Just now,” he replies simply. “When I saw the uncertainty in your eyes. I don’t want to see it there again.”
I look away and consider his words. “If you say I’m enough, then I believe you.”
“Good. Now come here and sit on my lap, you’re too fuckin’ far away.”
I stand up and go to him, sitting down on his lap, my legs across his. “Better?”
“Much.”
“Is that Vinnie . . .” I trail off, squinting my eyes, trying to see what he was doing.
“Yup.”
“Is he . . .”
“Yup.”
“Oh.”
Rake laughs, nuzzling my neck. “Do you want to go to bed?”
“Do you want to?” I ask him, kissing along his jaw. “I know this is your . . . thing.”
“Have you ever had a threesome?” he asks, gripping my chin with his thumb and index finger, and searching my eyes.
“No,” I reply honestly. “I can’t say that I have.”
Although it was one of the things I had listed on a sexual bucket list I wrote a few years back.
“If there’s anything you want to do, any fantasies you have, you know I’ll make them reality, right? You don’t need to be shy. I doubt there’s anything I haven’t done.” He pauses. “Unless you want to fuck another guy, because that’s not happening.”
“Have you played out all your fantasies?” I ask, already knowing the answer. I had no doubt in my mind that he’d done everything he’d want to, like he had just admitted.
His lip twitches before he kisses my mouth.
“Softening the blow?” I tease, shaking my head.
“You’re my fantasy, baby,” he says, grinning cheekily.
I smile back at him. “I better be.”
THIRTY
ON Monday morning, I’m walking to my classroom when I see a man standing at my door. I freeze, not knowing what to say, dread and panic filling me.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, shuffling the books in my hands so I don’t drop them.
He’d changed. Gotten older. He didn’t look good—he’d lost a lot of weight, looking a little gaunt. “I want to see my daughter.”
“How did you know where I worked?” I ask, looking around. I don’t want any passing students to hear this conversation, but I’m also shocked and confused. What the hell was he doing here? How did he know where to find me, and why now? There’s no way he actually wants to see Cara, is there? Sure, a man can change, but I get the feeling that’s not the case here. He must have an ulterior motive, although I can’t really think of what it might be.
He looks around before answering. “I wanted to find you, so I did. And I want to see my daughter. Set up a meet, please. . . .”
That’s it? He comes back out of the blue, after not having anything to do with Cara, not caring enough to check up on her, or do anything for that matter, and he says, Set up a meet? He must be out of his fucking mind.
“Bailey, I brought the printouts you wanted,” Mallory, the art teacher from next door says, stopping as she sees Wade. She looks between the two of us. “Everything okay here?”
“I was just leaving,” Wade says softly. He then says so quietly, I almost don’t hear it, “Think about it.”
He walks away, leaving Mallory and I staring after him.
“Who was that?” she asks, walking into my classroom and putting the sheets down on my desk before sitting on the corner of it. She pushes her brown hair out of her face and watches me curiously. “He seems a little shady.”
I expel a deep sigh and practically drop into my chair. “Someone from my past. No idea what he wants now, but I guess I’m going to soon find out.”
“Call security next time,” Mallory suggests, tightening her pouty lips. “I don’t like the look of him.”
Neither did I.
I make a mental note to tell Rake about it as soon as I get home.
I have a bad feeling about this.
Looks like I’m about to be thrown into more danger—except this time it isn’t any biker’s fault. It’s mine.
* * *
“The men do this for fun?” I ask, cringing as Arrow punches Rake in the stomach.
“Yeah,” Anna says, flashing me a sympathetic look. “You should probably get used to it.”
“But”—I make a face—“how do you stand it? Your brother and your man?”
“This isn’t their first fight,” she says in a dry tone. “At least