Score hung up and started toward her, tossing his phone onto the dining table as he passed it.
“That was your dad?” she asked, tucking her hair back while still clutching her sheet in a fist at her cleavage. “You didn’t have to hang up. I can give you privacy.”
“Don’t need it,” he said, stroking her shoulders. “You hungry?”
“Starved, but do we have time to eat?” she asked. “I don’t know what time it is.”
“We have time.”
Relaxing her weight into his hands on her shoulders, she flashed him a smile. “How much time?” she asked, sidelining the aches in her body. “Do we have time to—”
“Why do you think I left you in bed alone,” he said, turning her around. “Go shower. I’ll order something from downstairs.”
The restaurant in their building usually needed residents to let them know in advance if they wanted breakfast. The rules probably didn’t apply to Phoenix McDade.
“Is there a problem?” she asked over her shoulder as he marched her forward. “At home, with your family?”
“There’s always a problem with my family,” he said, stopping her at the bedroom door. “But this is my home.”
Shyla stepped over the threshold into the bedroom, but about-faced to address him again. “And there’s no problem here.”
“None other than you,” he said, nodding past her. “Shower.”
“You could come with me,” she said, trying to touch him.
Score stepped back, out of her reach. “You’re not ready for shower sex.”
“Make me ready,” she said, hitching her chin. “Please.”
“Stop it,” he said, raising a finger. “You push me and you won’t be ready for what happens next. Who makes the rules around here?”
She gave a mock salute. “You, sir.”
“Right, so go—”
“Shower. Okay.”
Playing with him, teasing him, it was all in fun. Shyla went to the closet to retrieve a towel and left it on the bathroom vanity before stripping the bed. Score was smart. He didn’t only choose last night because it would distract her from saying goodbye to Stan. Though he hadn’t said it, she suspected his second motive was as a distraction for them. If they only had to get up to do their jobs, he might have been tempted to keep her there all day… maybe all week.
The club was his. He could decide when he wanted to go there and could delegate any important tasks. Her job was to feed him and keep his home for him; she could do that and still pause for sex whenever he wanted to have her.
Coming to this apartment was supposed to keep her off the streets. Instead it had given her a new, wonderful life. One that she wanted to embrace in every way she could.
Carrying the linen to the laundry room, Shyla put the washer on and spun around, but gasped when she was confronted by someone in the doorway. Someone being Score.
“Stop sneaking up on me,” she said, soothing her rushing heart. “Geez.”
“That was the quickest shower in history.”
She smiled. “I had to put the laundry on or it won’t be done for me to switch into the dryer before we go. I’m being efficient.”
“And disobeying orders.”
Moseying in closer, she picked up his hand to lay it on her breast. “Discipline me,” she said. “Isn’t that what you said would happen?”
“Don’t have time.”
So they had time to order food and eat, but not enough time for her to learn what his discipline would involve. Probably sensing her intrigue, he bowed to kiss her. Just once, a short kiss that reminded her of his possession.
“Phoenix,” she breathed, moving in closer.
“Shower,” he said, stepping aside to give her a push into the hallway.
Before she started moving, he swatted her ass. She’d never been spanked, but it got her to move. Shyla glanced back over her shoulder to see his arms were folded and he was leaning against the wall, much like he had been the first time she laid eyes on him.
Score had warned her there was a lot to learn. But if any of what was to come was half as good as what they’d shared already, she couldn’t wait to bathe herself in all of it.
Score was astute, that was no newsflash. Despite knowing he paid attention, the black limo awaiting them on their departure had been a shock. Even though he probably hadn’t made the call to reserve the vehicle himself, it still meant something that he’d thought ahead to ensure they had chauffeur driven transportation.
The service was more traditional than Shyla had expected. Stan, like Bernard, planned his own funeral several years ago. From what he’d said at the time of the planning, she’d anticipated something unusual. Instead, there was a sermon on top of the eulogy delivered by Mick, who did a great job at appearing the devastated son.
Shyla didn’t want to be cynical about the broken words and long pauses, which apparently he needed to compose himself. He’d lost his father, it stood to reason that he’d be upset. Yet, she did wonder why Mick, if he truly did love his father so much, hadn’t made more of an effort while Stan was still in the world with them.
Having Score at her side was more strength than she’d ever need. People glanced their way when they entered and sat down, hands linked, clearly together. Throughout, he’d let her take the lead. Odd that in their private life, he was the dominant partner, but in the sensitive situation, Phoenix let her pick where they should sit, and who they should talk to.
There wasn’t much time to talk to anyone between the service and the graveside. The wake
