“You're right, you know that? I have zero girlfriends. The closest thing I ever had was Toni Gladstone and she moved.” A long pause as Lyric sits up, dark hair sliding across her face. “Did you have sex with Toni?”
“Toni?” I ask. “Who the fuck is that?”
“Never mind,” Lyric says, waving her hand. “I don't want to know.”
I kneel in front of her, noticing the way her eyes admire the bunching of my stomach muscles.
“If you didn't want to know, you wouldn't have asked.”
Lyric scoots away from me and crawls onto the bed, the dogs jumping up after her and rubbing their bodies along hers.
“The previous deputy mayor, the woman who tried to make that bullshit agreement with the Wolves, the one so preposterous there was no way in hell you'd ever sign it.”
“Ah,” I say, a faint memory flickering at the edges of my brain as I stand up. “No, I didn't shag her. It was Mug, I think.”
“Mug?!” Lyric says, sitting up suddenly and leaning forward to stare at me. “No. No, she clearly said it was you.”
“Happens all the time,” I say and she raises her eyebrows at me as I lean onto the end of the bed. “Mug's not exactly … known for his looks. You know where he got his nickname, right?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Ugliest damn mug you ever did see, yeah? I clearly remember seeing him take Toni up to a dorm room, and I would not lie about that shite.”
Lyric breathes out a sigh of relief and scoots up into the pillows, making me smile.
“So,” I ask casually as I flick the lights off and try not to worry about tomorrow, about the club's vote on the cartel. It's time to decide what action we're going to take. If Sully doesn't get back to me before then, we'll assume he's a casualty of war and move forward. “Are you nervous about that shopping trip? I hear the first time hurts a little.”
Lyric chuckles as I climb into bed beside her and pull her tiny body against mine in a perfect spoon. Oh yes. Best way to shag, this is. Because of our height differences, this is the ideal position. I feel myself getting hard, my cock pressing tight against the inside of my sweats. Lyric feels it, too, wiggling her ass against me and making me groan.
“I can handle Janae,” she says, “but I'd rather not just handle her. I want this to work, Royal. Me and you. Even if being mayor is as far as I get, I can make that be okay. I can be a lawyer and we … this is what I want.” I sigh as I pull our bodies tighter together, kissing down the side of her neck.
“Most romantic shit I've ever heard,” I growl against her ear, making her shiver. We both pause when her mobile buzzes. “Fuck. It might be that twatwaffle; you better answer it.” With a sigh, I reluctantly let Lyric go, watching her curvy body scoot to the side of the bed so she can grab the phone.
After a long minute, she looks over her shoulder at me, her face aglow in the light from the screen.
“Sully says he'll do it. Hopefully, this time he's actually telling the truth. I swear to God, if I have to do spend one more day worrying about this …” A pause, a small smile. “Oh, and he says he caught my mom polishing my father's shotgun. You'd best prepare yourself for the Rentzes, Mr. McBride.”
The next morning, I am sexed up and dressed up, ready to deal with Kailey and my father at the office. It isn't going to be a pleasant experience, that's for sure, but since when has it ever been? I pack up my laptop and check my hair in the mirror. I think I'm finally getting the hang of this flat ironing thing. Right now, I look shiny and professional and prepared.
Royal gives me a passionate kiss on the porch, his hands gripping the ass of my red pencil skirt before I manage to pull away from him, sweating and blushing and moving down the steps with a wave toward Sketch on his bike.
When I finally get to the office, my father meets me at the front door.
Not a good sign.
“Upstairs, please,” he grinds out through clenched teeth. I raise my brows at him as he takes in my outfit and shoes—an amazing pair of suede boots that I dug out from the back of my closet before I moved in (sort of) with Royal—and follow him inside. Kailey watches us pass and shakes her head at me, like she's disappointed. Well, screw her. She's in love with Mr. On-Again, Off-Again, some yoga instructor from Arcata, and she's so scared of our parents that she won't admit that to herself.
I realize as I start up the staircase that I'm still wearing Royal's ring. If I take it off now, it'd feel like I'm giving in. If I don't … if I don't, then I'm committing to this. Didn't I say I wanted to take things slow? Wasn't that me? Didn't I say I needed time?