Techy (Devil Souls MC Book 2)(14)

“Never?” Jordan says in shock.

Oh my goodness. He heard me mumbling to myself. What am I going to do? Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I look up at him, my face red. “Never,” I confirm and my face gets hotter.

“Good.” He smiles cockily at me and winks.

What the what? My eyes widen. “What?”

He just smiles and then moves around the couch. He sits down beside me and pulls me into his arms, pressing my head to his chest and resting his hand on my hip. I rest my hand on his large chest.

“Once you’re not in any pain anymore, I am going to take you out on a date.”

Butterflies swarm in my belly. “Okay.” I grin against his chest.

His lips touch the back of my head. He inhales, and then his lips pucker. I close my eyes and wrap my fist around his shirt.





I’m getting ready for my date. It’s been a week since Jordan told me that he was going to take me out, and I’m wearing something from my new wardrobe. It’s like being at a mall. I have never seen so many clothes in my whole entire life.

He’s taking me out for steak and to a bar, which I begged him to do because I want to experience everything I can. I just turned twenty-one two days ago. Jordan is twenty-seven and I really don’t care that he is six years older than I am.

I have spent the past week getting to know everything I possibly can about him. I have never felt so comfortable with someone in my whole entire life. I don’t know what it is about him, but I feel so safe with him.

I finish the last bit of my hair. I’ve been watching YouTube videos about makeup and hair, and I have to admit I’ve done a pretty good job. I study myself in the mirror. I’ve gained weight, my face is starting to fill out, and so is my body. I’m starting to look and feel healthier. My hair hangs down my back, straight and long, and my makeup is just basic eyeshadow and liner, but it made a huge difference in how I look.

After slipping my shoes on, I walk out of our bedroom. We sleep in the same bed, and being in his arms at night keeps the bad dreams that want to haunt me away. The worst ones are of my mother. I want to see her. Actually, I want to see my old mother. She used to be such a good mother. She fed me and took care of me. She and my dad were fighting like usual, and then, one day, the fighting stopped.

The mother I had once known was gone. Drugs were her life. She was always high. I can’t remember a time in those years when she wasn’t. It’s like she never came down from her high. I want to see her but if I see her, it may set me back. I want her to be well, but I want to be rid of that life.

“You ready, angel?”

I turn around and see Jordan standing at the entrance of the bedroom. His gaze slowly glides over my body and then connects with mine, hot and smoldering

“Fuck me,” he murmurs and moves closer to me.

I separate the distance between us and grin at him.

“I am going to have to kill some motherfuckers tonight,” he confesses and pulls me into his arms, the top of his head resting on mine.

Here are those darn butterflies again.

He pulls away and slips his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers. He leads me down the stairs and I see a box sitting on the island in the kitchen. If he got me another gift…

He stops in front of the island and hands me the box.

“Jordan—” I start.

But he stops me with the shake of his head. I glare at him, and he smiles that smile I love. I pull the lid off the box, pull back the paper, and find a leather vest. I gasp when I see the patch. Property of Techy.

I look at Techy, and his face has softened. I grab the cut out of the box, my hands shaking. According to Jordan, getting a patch like this doesn’t happen easily. This is his way of telling the world that I belong to him.

He takes the cut from me and motions for me to turn around. I do so and raise my arms so he can slip it on me. I pull my hair out of the cut, and at his sharp intake of breath, I know he is affected. I turn around and face him.

Jordan is clenching and unclenching his hand. “Angel, I am one fucking second away from kissing you. I won’t do it until you want me to.”

My heart stops.

Do I want him to kiss me?

Hell yeah.

I take a step closer to him, and his eyes darken. He growls from deep inside his chest and slips his hand into my hair, and then pulls me all the way to him. The hand in my hair fists it, and then his mouth is on mine.

I rest my hand on his cheek. His lips move against mine, and I follow him, throwing caution to the wind. His lips move against mine like they are dancing. I hold on for dear life because this kiss has robbed me of all of my oxygen.

Minutes, hours, seconds later—I don’t know—he pulls away. His lips go to my forehead, where he presses a tender kiss, and goose bumps break out across my bare arms. He growls, and his hands tighten on my hips. “Mine,” he says.