Risky and Wild(61)
“You're charming,” she says and then shakes her head, giving me a sad smile over her shoulder. “But charming isn't enough, Royal. Love … isn't enough. If that's even what we have right now. We're from completely different worlds, different universes. What I want and the life you lead, they aren't compatible.”
“You and me, love, that's about as compatible as anything ever gets.” I realize I'm still holding my cigarette and drop it to the ground, crushing it out with my boot. “What I'm trying to say is, I'm in love with you, Pint-Size.”
I meet her gaze dead on.
Lyric's face softens for a moment as she pauses to brush a moth away from her hair.
“I—” she starts, pauses, takes a deep breath. I watch her standing there in the pool of white light from above our heads, the sounds of nightlife emerging from the curtain of darkness around the hospital. In that moment of silence, I can hear the ocean. “I love you, too, Royal,” she says and I feel a grin slide across my face as her green eyes flick up to mine. My heart's thundering in my chest and for a split second there, I'm not the president of the Alpha Wolves MC. For a second there, I'm just a man staring at the woman he's been waiting for his whole life. “But love doesn't change the rules in politics.” She pulls her gaze away as the automatic doors open and a pair of young nurses saunter by. “And it doesn't change the rules of the club.”
When Lyric walks away, I let her get a head start and then follow after, tailing her home on my bike. I text Sketch the Prospect to meet me here in the morning and spend the rest of my night camping inside Lyric's living room.
I'm not sure if I should be miffed about being locked out of the bedroom … or just bloody grateful that I was let in the front door at all.
“Rise and shine, Mr. President,” Lyric says caustically, pulling apart the purple curtains and flooding the small living room with light. When I crack my eyes open, I find her standing there in a sexy arse little getup, some head to toe look in black. It's a right proper outfit, very classy, nothing at all like anything the groupies back at the clubhouse would wear.
I sit up with a groan and check out the front window for Sketch. Yep, he's already sitting there. Looks like we might have to actually patch the wanker into the club. I like a man who follows orders.
“Get up and get out of my house,” Lyric says as she breezes past me and into the kitchen, following the familiar gurgling sound of a coffeemaker. “You have a shoot with the Times-Standard today. I imagine a shower might be in order first?”
I sit up with a grunt and run my fingers through my hair.
“Bloody hell. What time is it, love?” I ask as I admire Lyric's ass, the smooth curve of her back, the rounded perfection of her shoulders. I've never see her wear anything like this before, and I'll be honest: I'm fucking mesmerized. “Did you wake me up for a good morning shag?”
“No such luck, Mr. McBride,” she says, pouring a cup of coffee and setting it down on the table next to me. “I'm due at the office. You know, for that job that doesn't mean shit to you.”
I raise my brows as Lyric cringes and then flutters her left hand at me in apology, another cup of coffee clutched in her right.
“I'm sorry,” she says and then sucks in a deep breath. “Look, I just don't have the energy for an argument right now.” Another pause as she glances away. “Sully called me this morning. He decided to talk to my dad before speaking with the FBI. Apparently the plan's on hold until I get to the office; Philip's waiting to talk to me.”
Lyric looks back at me, the injuries on her cheeks carefully covered with makeup, her short hair straight and shiny, lips slathered in red. She doesn't look anything like the girl with the slicked back buns and the brown skirt suits. Come to think of it, she doesn't look anything like the girl in the tight red dress I danced with that first night either. She's … something else entirely. I can't put my finger on it, but it's there.
“Your brother's a fucking prat, you know that?”
Lyric gives me an almost smile and carefully sips her coffee, staining the white mug with her lipstick.
“If I get time today, I'll look into that nurse from last night. I have a few contacts at the hospital who can help out.”
“Pint-Size,” I start, because I feel like all of this business chitchat is just a cover for what's really going on between us. Love. Fuck, there's that. We both said it and even though I'm about half-positive that makes us both mad as hatters, I know it's true. “I don't want to steal the life from your lips, love. That wasn't what that conversation at the clubhouse was all about.”