His leopard growled with approval inside him, and he reached up to brush her bangs back, emboldened by the trust she already had in him. “We’ve already talked about how that wasn’t your fault, il mio cuore. Just because you didn’t see the man he really is until it was too late doesn’t mean your judgment is flawed with everyone. But if you didn’t mean kids, what did you mean?”
She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip. Finally reaching up, she gently touched the skin underneath his eyes. “You said that makes me human. Your eyes… when I talk about Shawn, they turn an eerie green. They look inhuman when they do that.”
Breath freezing in his lungs, he studied her closely as he cursed inside. It was too soon for her to know what he was, but he hadn’t spared his eyes a single thought, despite knowing they changed to his leopard’s eyes when he got too worked up.
And everything she’d told him about her soon to be dead ex had him worked up.
“Do they scare you?” he asked, unable to lie to her just yet. Hell, he’d probably never be able to fucking lie to her, if how he was feeling now was any indication.
“I think they probably should. At they very least, they should make me nervous, but they don’t. I’m not sure why. Possibly that whole judgment being off thing.”
He frowned. “I feel like you’re baiting me with that last bit, Ana. Are you trying to get a lecture?”
“Maybe,” she replied with a smile that made her dimple pop. “They’re actually kind of nice. And surprisingly sweet. I wasn’t expecting that from a rough, tatted up biker.”
He frowned, unable to keep the disgust from his voice when he spoke. “Did you just call me sweet?”
A light giggle escaped her. “Maybe. You should see your face right now. You look like something just grossed you out.”
“Because it did when you called me sweet. Don’t say that shit again, Anastasia.”
She laughed again before arching an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me how it’s possible for your eyes to do that.”
He hesitated for a moment. “I think that’s an explanation for another time.”
Holding his breath, he waited for her to freak out on him. He hadn’t told her what he was—but he hadn’t told her it was nothing and he was just as human as she was, either. But to his surprise, she just nodded calmly.
“Okay, but I’ll hold you to that.” She was quiet for a moment before squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”
Surprise that she was not only accepting of his words to talk about his eyes later, but that she was thanking him on top of that, washed over him. “For what?”
“For… everything. Saving me from my ex. Listening to that whole story when you didn’t have to. Hell, you didn’t even have to ask me why you had to save me to begin with. For not judging anything I said. And for making me feel better. Just being around you seems to do that, but you upped the stakes by making me smile and laugh, even right after dredging my past up.”
“It was all my pleasure, il mio cuore.”
Chapter Two Hundred Fifteen
Ana swiped her brush through her damp hair one last time before glancing down, nerves fluttering madly in her belly. She’d had every intention of changing into her spare clothes after her shower, but Bolt insisted she use some of his to sleep in.
She’d been grateful to save her clean clothes for the next day, but now that it was time for her to go back into his room, while wearing his clothes, she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. She already spent far more time in the bathroom than she normally did, stalling by brushing her hair until it was nearly dry, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn the doorknob.
Glancing in the mirror, she tried to look at herself objectively. Long hair hanging nearly to her waist—the black already fading because she used temporary hair dye since she had to change it so often—chipped toenail polish that made her wince, bare legs that were at least smooth since she had a razor in her go bag, and Bolt’s soft t-shirt and boxers hanging off her frame.
She’d actually been surprised at how loosely his clothes fit her. She was curvy—something her bastard ex was always on her case about—and she’d nearly declined his offer because of that. But she must have been underestimating just how huge he truly was, because despite the fact that she wasn’t thin, his shirt wasn’t at all snug.
Maybe it didn’t engulf her like it would a smaller woman, but it wasn’t tight, either. The boxers weren’t as loose, because while his torso and arms might be huge, his hips were still slimmer than her curves, but she wasn’t busting the seams of them.
Miracles really could happen, couldn’t they?
So, while she wasn’t wallowing at the humiliation she’d feared—wasn’t much that could be more embarrassing than the clothes a huge man like Bolt wore being too small for her—she still wasn’t exactly jumping at the idea of parading around in so little, either.
She kept telling herself she was being stupid for caring about what he thought when he looked at her—God, she really, really was, because he was sex on a stick, and there was no way he looked at her in that way—but she still did.
Who could blame her, though? He was sinfully gorgeous, and on top of that, he was a genuinely good man. He’d saved her, asked her what was happening, then held her hand and kept her grounded when she spilled her guts, telling him far more than he probably ever wanted to know about her past.
And on top of
