Cross To Bear: The Satan’s Knights MC North Carolina by Janine Infante Bosco

Author:Janine Infante Bosco [Bosco, Janine Infante]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

IF I THOUGHT KISSING Johnny was too intimate, sharing a shower definitely raised the bar. Not only did he take great care in washing my body, but he made sure to take my braid out so he can wash my hair. I felt tears fill my eyes as he gently kneaded my scalp, and I wasn’t sure if I was on the verge of crying simply because I was so fearful of what happened next, or if my emotions were just completely fried.

I’m guessing it was a combination of both.

By the time we were done, I felt completely drained. I couldn’t even walk. It was like I was physically paralyzed. Johnny lifted me into his arms once again, and dried me off, dressing me in one of his t-shirts before he deposited my limp body on the armchair in his room so he could remove the soiled sheets from the bed.

If I had any braincells left, I would’ve made a quip about this motorcycle compound really being a five-star hotel. I mean I was baffled before but the spare set of sheets in the closet—that really cinched it for me.

Once he finally got the fitted sheet on the mattress, he came back to me, lifting me into his arms and gently laying me on the bed before crawling in behind me. He tucked my feet between his legs just like he did earlier, then drew the comforter over us.

“It was better than all the dreams,” he whispered, tucking me against his body as he nuzzled my neck. “Sleep well, baby.”

It wasn’t the first time he referenced having me in his dreams, and I was certain one day I’d regret not asking him to tell me more about those dreams, but in that moment, I remained silent. I let him hold me as I stared at the digital clock on his nightstand. Part of me was desperate for sleep, but another part of me feared what would come if I woke up his arms.

Johnny ran once.

Maybe it was my turn.

I wasn’t foolish to believe he would cut me lose. That wouldn’t come until after Andrew’s funeral. But in the spirit of self-preservation, I could avoid the awkward morning after. I could spare myself from waking up in his arms and believing the illusion that he could be someone I can lean on.

Not in tragedy and certainly not in the aftermath one.

He was a distraction, and the sooner I tricked myself into believing that the better off I’d be.

The problem was I didn’t know if he was a light sleeper or not. How was I going to dislodge myself from his arms without waking him? I waited until the clock turned four, and he was snoring before I carefully moved his arm from my stomach and slid out of the bed. I forgot about Chestnut, though, and as soon as my feet hit the floor he perked up, rushing to my side.

I bent down to pet him, quietly begging him not to bark.

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