I wanted that to sink in.

But there was still fear in my voice when I said, “I’m worried it’s too late. I’m worried too much time has passed. We’ve both changed. Probably a lot. I’m worried—”

He cut me off to ask, “Does this feel like it’s too late?”

I took him in, lying on me, touching me, holding me—he was my whole world in a variety of ways and had been since we met. But right then, that feeling was literal.

So it totally didn’t feel too late.

Not at all.

“You make it sound so easy,” I whispered.

“Doin’ anything at your side, no matter how hard it gets, it’s still gonna be a fuckuva lot easier than tryin’ to do anything without you. So, you’re right. It might not be easy. Life is what it is and we’re gonna face shit along the way. But I know what it was like, doin’ that not havin’ you. And I know what it was like doin’ that havin’ you. And I know which way I like better.”

See?

He was so good at the flowery, biker goodness.

Too good.

So good I was close to crying again.

And in order not to do that, I got bitchy.

“You’re gonna have to stop being so awesome or I’ll be bawling like a lunatic all the time,” I snapped.

He gave me more of his weight as he dipped his face closer.

“Not sure I can stop bein’ awesome, beautiful. It’s just me.”

I rolled my eyes.

When I rolled them back, I saw his were dancing.

God, I loved that.

I melted and lost the bitchy.

Then I realized I’d melted and lost the bitchy so I regained the bitchy and declared sharply, “You’re being awesome again.”

He started chuckling.

In order not to let how good that felt, and better, how good that felt having it back reduce me to a blubbering mess, I glared.

While glaring, I announced, “Right, so, this being at each other’s sides business, you should know the obstacles you face include, but are not limited to, me being scared absolutely shitless about meeting your girls and them not liking me. Me not having a good idea about the other tat that’s new that’s inked into your ribs. And last but not least, me warning you I’m no longer anywhere near an old lady. I’m boring. I watch TV, wear designer duds, and work most of the time. And don’t get any ideas because my halter top, cutoff shorts days are way behind me. And, although I hold no judgment against pot smokers, you still do that shit, you do it outside. I don’t want the smell in my furniture.”

He’d stopped chuckling but was still smiling when he returned, “Got kids, babe, don’t smoke pot except on occasion, only when they’re not with me and I’m at the Compound so I can commune with the brothers, then crash.”

“That’s acceptable,” I stated haughtily.

“And I dig your new threads. In fact, you’re gonna be wearing that sweater dress thing you had on that day you got up in my face when I was deliverin’ the champagne and you’re gonna be doin’ that soon so I can do the things to you I been thinkin’ about doin’ since I saw your ass in it.”

His words had a variety of effects but I elected to focus on just one.

“I didn’t get up in your face. You got up in mine,” I reminded him.

“I did,” he agreed cheerfully. “But then you got up in mine.”

“Only because you got up in mine,” I retorted.

“Whatever.” He blew that off and reverted back to the earlier subject. “As for you workin’ all the time, you’re gonna have to cut that shit out.”

Suddenly, we hit rocky ground.

But it all had to be faced and maybe sooner, having it all out there, was better than later.

“I like working,” I told him carefully. “And my job is busy.”

“Millie, you think I’m gonna settle for you carvin’ out time for a quick blowjob every once in a while, you best think again. We gotta lotta time to make up for. While we’re doin’ that, you’re gonna be takin’ my dick a lot, doin’ it in a variety of ways, and I’m gonna be takin’ my time givin’ it to you.”

These words only had a special subset of effects and I was so busy focusing on them, I had no reply.

“I see that’s caught your attention,” he muttered, and I hazily focused on him. “So we’ll start with that. But fair warnin’, your life is gonna be filled, beautiful, with the good shit that makes life worth livin’. So when you get back to work, you gotta think about how that’s gonna come about because your days livin’ as a ghost plannin’ parties for other people to enjoy and not havin’ that for yourself are done. Hear?”

I heard.

I liked.

I didn’t know how it was going to work out.

I just knew I was going to do what I could to find those ways.

However.

“Are you bossier than before or did I just not notice how bossy you were before?” I asked, and it wasn’t testy, it was voiced as I felt it, like I genuinely wanted to know.

Logan grinned. “No fuckin’ clue. What I do got a clue about is you best get used to the bossy. You give me stick about any a’ this shit, you’re gonna see a lot of it.”

My gaze drifted to his ear as my lips mumbled, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I am,” he replied firmly, and I looked back to him just in time to watch his head angle to the side. “Now, we woke up. We had a surprise family reunion. We had waffles. We had a drama. We had a spectacular fuck. We got some shit straight. In all that, you know what we haven’t had?”