“Can I delay my decision until I don’t have so much tequila and beer in my system?” I requested.

“I’m thinkin’, Toots, you didn’t get me when I told you that you should live more,” he replied.

“So your advice is to make a major life decision naked, in bed with a man I barely know, after having four orgasms, our first fight and while somewhat intoxicated?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he answered without hesitation.

I stared at his shadowed head.

Then I burst out laughing.

“Toots,” he called over my laughter.

But I kept laughing.

So hard I had to lift my head up and shove my face against his neck at the same time wrapping my arms around him to hold on.

There was no reason to do this since I was horizontal, I just did.

“Clara,” he called again when I kept laughing, so I struggled to control it, dropped my head to the bed and looked at him again.

“Give me until morning,” I said through residual giggles.

“Gorgeous, just pointing out, you’re holdin’ on to me tight,” he said quietly, my residual giggles died, and I started to slide my arms away until he ordered, “Don’t,” and I stopped.

“Buck,” I whispered.

“You got until morning,” he acquiesced. My body relaxed under his, his head dipped, and I felt his lips at my ear. “And so do I,” he finished.

His mouth moved to mine, and he kissed me.

Then he went about giving me orgasm five and he took his time doing it.

Shortly after, he took more time and gave me orgasm six.

After that, I passed out, and my last thought was I could enjoy West “Buck” Hardy for a long, long time.

Especially if he could keep all that up.

And I meant all of it.

But mostly, if he kept kissing my nose.

3

Redhot

I opened my eyes to see sun shining into Buck’s room at the clubhouse.

I also saw Buck’s (impressive) chest.

I saw this because my cheek was to his shoulder.

I’d been right and I had a variety of sensory proof.

Buck was muscled everywhere.

He also had tattoos on more than his arms. They slid up his shoulders and there were two on his torso. One, in black ink on his lower left abs over a nasty-looking scar that said, Never Again and another one over his heart that said Gear.

I looked beyond his beautiful chest, sensing my hangover, which I suspected would hit full swing the minute I moved any body part. So I tried only to shift my eyes because I didn’t want my hangover to hit and because I didn’t want to wake a sleeping Buck.

I’d been occupied last night so I hadn’t taken in the room, which was not only messy, it appeared filthy. It definitely needed dusting and a pick-up. So much so, the chores might take a week.

Clothes everywhere. Bits of paper. Discarded disposable coffee cups. Beer and liquor bottles. Dirty glasses, dishes and take out cartons. And…my gaze narrowed…bullets.

Um…ack!

I closed my eyes again to shut out the filth (but mostly the bullets) and snuggled deeper into Buck’s warm, hard side which made his arm tense around my back, the pads of his fingers digging briefly into the flesh at my hip before he settled again.

I waited and he didn’t move any more.

Still asleep.

I could see that.

Last night had to exhaust him considering he did the vast majority of the work.

Then I remembered I had a decision to make and I opened my eyes, but didn’t focus.

I liked this man against me in bed and not just because he had more stamina and skill than five Rogan Kirks.

No.

It was because he kissed my nose. Because he listened to me. And because he made me laugh really hard. He didn’t mean to, but he did it, and I hadn’t laughed in a really, really long time.

It felt good.

He protected his Club and he wanted to protect me.

That felt nice.

The part that didn’t feel nice was that he wanted to do it until it wasn’t so much fun anymore.

This wasn’t surprising, of course. We’d not known each other even twenty-four hours. I knew he enjoyed me, it was impossible to miss. Not to mention he told me straight out after orgasm three (mine) and again after orgasm five (his). But I knew we were nowhere near avowals of love and shopping for wedding bands.

Still.

How long would it take for a man like West “Buck” Hardy to find me not so fun anymore?

Probably not very long.

And he’d kissed my nose.

Kissed my nose.

I’d probably find him fun a lot longer.

Hells bells.

I’d learned this lesson before, very publicly.

I thought Rogan was the key to a beautiful life and the reason I thought that was not because he was a beautiful man who gave beautiful orgasms who made me feel beautiful with the way he looked at me and all the things he was able to give me.

But instead, with the way he treated me.

I’d loved him.

And then…

Enough said on that.

Now I was offered Buck as the key to safety and security.

But I’d also learned a long time ago, and stupidly forgot along the way, that I needed to look out for myself.

And Tia.

Buck was right. We should just go.

I didn’t have any money, but Tia could lay her hands on some. My car was being shopped out for repo and Esposito probably put tracking devices on his to keep tabs on Tia, but it would make it harder for the repo man if my car was five states away.

I was thinking Seattle. I’d always wanted to go there. And I liked coffee and they had a lot of coffee places in Seattle. Maybe I could get a job in one.

So, we’d go.

And then, when someone snuffed Esposito out, we’d come back.

When we did, I’d find Buck, and if he wasn’t nailed down by some gorgeous woman who he enjoyed more than me, maybe he’d give me another shot without this hanging over my head.

Not for pity. Not for protection.

For me.

And I’d come to him clean.

I cautiously raised my head and studied his face.

I would never have imagined he’d be my type.

Way too rough, way too rugged.

But he was my type.

He was gorgeous.

In more than just one way that word could define a person.

I sighed quietly, slid up carefully and kissed the hinge of his whisker-covered jaw. Then I gave myself another moment with his face, memorizing it gentle in sleep like that but still masculine and magnetic.

After I gave myself that, I slid away.

I hurried through the room, grabbing my clothes as I headed to an open door where I saw a sink. I went through, found the bathroom was definitely way ickier than the bedroom, and I tried not to think what the soles of my feet were encountering as I dressed.

I used the facilities, washed my hands and splashed water on my face.

Mistake.

I knew this when I looked at the crusty towel.

Big time ick.

Bigger time ick with a hangover.

My stomach roiled as I used the edges of the towel that were less crusty and wiped my hands and face as best I could.

I walked out of the bathroom carrying my shoes.

Buck was still asleep in bed, and seeing him there, the sheet down at his waist, his tattoos, skin and muscles on display, it was hard not to disrobe and join him again.