“You okay?” he says.

“I should be asking you that,” I say, and lean back in order to see his face. “You are the invalid, after all.”

“You love to push my buttons don’t ya, Princess?”

“Someone has to keep you on your toes.” I wink. Turning to the fridge, I open the door and bend at the waist to peruse the contents. Because of the things my father told us about the Russian mob boss being interested in Tank, Jett has stationed two men here at all times. There was a score to settle, after all. Tank had raved and rallied like a complete lunatic about it until Jett had mentioned that it was for my protection as well. He’d muttered something about being able to protect me just fine, but he hadn’t pushed the case, because though he would do anything to keep me safe, right now he knew he couldn’t. I was more than happy to go along with Prez’s plan. We’d both seen enough violence these last few weeks to tide us over for a lifetime. Still, extra boys meant extra mouths, and unfortunately they weren’t so good at topping up the contents of the fridge.

“You hungry?” I ask.

“Only for you,” he whispers, and a thrill runs through me, sharper and more electric than a live wire. Tank’s pinkie and ring fingers slide over the seam of my jeans, toying with my arse, and I close the fridge when I see nothing inside that I want more than him.

“Come on, you big broken lug. Let’s get you back to bed.”

“I don’t wanna go to bed. I’m fuckin’ done with sleepin’ and if I have to lay there staring up at that fuckin’ ceiling again, I’m gonna lose my shit and blow my own fuckin’ brains out.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” I gently take his forearm and lead him into the bedroom. I walk slowly and try my best not to rush him, even though all I want to do is throw him to the ground and ride him like a damn pony. His injuries wouldn’t thank me for that, and he’d certainly be feeling a tad resentful if it caused him to bust open those stitches he keeps pawing at like a wounded puppy.

“Lie back and I’ll make it all better,” I say, and he eases back onto the nest of pillows surrounding the headboard. Carefully, I work his pants down his hips, mindful of his leg wound, and a devilish smile turns my mouth up at the corners when I see how hard he is for me. I remove my own clothes and crawl up the bed towards him.

The two of us have been cooped up in this house since he came home from the hospital, and you’d think that with nothing else to do we would have seen our way to getting lost in one another again, but he’s been so badly injured, and me? Well, I’ve been doing a little healing of my own.

While I haven’t so much as looked at a line, the craving hasn’t exactly gone away. There have been a handful of times since we fled that house that I’ve been tempted to drown out the memories with any sort of drug I could get my hands on, but what would be the point? It won’t take the pain away indefinitely, and in the end it just makes me feel worse. Besides, killing myself with smack after Tank fought so hard to be here, to be with me, just seems kinda rude.

Gingerly, I climb into his lap and slip a hand between us. I stroke his cock, sliding the head back and forth through my wet heat before positioning him at my entrance. Grasping his shoulder for support, I slowly inch my weight down. I’m met with no resistance, just a satisfied grunt, but when I start to rock gently back and forth, Tank winces.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, but his jaw is clenched tight and his eyes are squeezed shut. Unsure, I gently circle my hips. He sucks in a sharp breath that I mistake for pleasure, so I do it again. “Ow. Ow. Fuck, babe, get off.”

“Oh God, I hurt you.” I scramble from his lap, and wind up accidently kneeing him in the balls.

“Jesus, fuck,” he shouts, attempting to cup his hands around them, but he can’t with the casts.

“Maybe we should give it another week.” I laugh, but I’m met with a scowl.

“Maybe you should be fuckin’ careful where you’re steppin’,” he says

I give him a condescending little pat on the shoulder. “Aww poor baby. You need me to kiss it better?

“Yeah,” he snaps. “I’m thinkin’ that’s the best fuckin’ idea you ever had.”

I crawl down the bed, making sure to give him an eyeful of my pink pussy as I go. Before I’ve even laid a hand on him, Tank groans, and I allow myself a secret smile while I’m facing the opposite direction, because it’s nice to be appreciated.

I settle on my knees beside him, and take hold of his cock, sliding my hand up his hard length. He groans, and I feel him relax further into the bed. I lower my head and run my tongue along the slit, collecting a sticky drop of pre-cum and I swallow it down, and then I swallow him down too, all the way to the base of his cock, until I’m gagging on it.

“Fuck,” he groans, and pushes his hips towards me.

This time I do choke. And I release him, my throat burning and eyes watering. “Bastard.”

“You love it.”

“I love you,” I whisper, with a grin. And he sends me this pleading look in an attempt to direct my mouth back to his cock. I narrow my eyes when he doesn’t respond, and he rolls his.

“You need me to do this now?” he asks, exasperated. I just glare at him, which of course means that I do need him to say it now, and he’s an idiot for asking. “Fine. I love you enough to put you on the back of my bike and keep you there for good. I love you enough to be the only woman I bring home to my mother—even if you did steal her drugs—and I love you enough to ask you to stay here with me, permanently.”

I swallow past the lump forming in my throat. Tank’s eyes are fever bright and his brows pinch together like he’s in pain. “I love you so much that the idea of losing you to anyone makes my blood boil in my veins. I love you enough to take down every motherfucker who might try to take you from me.” He reaches the better of his two injured hands toward me, and gently strokes my cheek. “I love you enough to ask you to be my old lady for good.”

I sit up, warily meeting his eyes. “What are you saying, Tank?”

“I’m sayin’ I want you to fuckin’ wear my ring and show every other bastard on the face of the planet who you belong to.”

“Jonah—”

“Shit.” He allows his head to fall back against the headboard, closing his eyes as he says, “I didn’t think this through at all.”

“Oh,” I say, and I try not to sound as dejected as I feel, but … fuck, that hurts. It’s not that I’m dying to get married. Hell, before this conversation I’ve never even thought about it. That was something other women did, not club whores, but I find that it hurts as if I had really wanted it.

“Relax, Warrior Princess, I meant what I said. I’ve thought about it a lot. For a long-arse time. I never wanted to get married. I never wanted anyone dependin’ on me, you know? But I think about you heading back to the clubhouse, or going it alone now that you’re free, and I don’t want that. It isn’t safe with me. I’m always gonna have people gunnin’ for my head, and maybe I’m fuckin’ selfish for even askin’, but I fuckin’ love you, babe.” He shakes his head and gives me a wry smile. “Much as I don’t want to, much as I tried not to feel anything, you had to get under my skin and pitch your fuckin’ flag there, and that’s where you’ve damn well stayed since the day we met.

“So I’m a cunt for asking you with my dick hangin’ out, and I ain’t got a ring, ’cause I’m an arsehole like that, and you know I’m gonna be a pain in your arse more than I’m gonna be the fuckin’ man of your dreams. But I’m askin’ if you’ll make me the happiest man on the fuckin’ planet?”

Tears spill over my cheeks and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever cried from being truly happy, but all I can do is bury my face in my hands and shake my head.

“Well, don’t leave a man hangin’. Is that a no or a fuckin’ yes?” he asks, and the pinched expression, the worried gaze, the look of sheer terror on his face is priceless.