“Keep it up, giggles, and I won’t tell you the password for the main gate to the house,” I tease. “I’ll make you ring the bell and wait every time you come home!”
“Okay, okay, I’ll try to behave,” she assures me.
“This one is eight-nine-four-nine,” I tell her as I punch in the code and open the reinforced metal gate leading to the stairs up to my house. “Just remember the word…”
“Don’t tell me!” Charlotte interrupts. “Let me see the keypad…eight-nine-four-nine… Twix!” she says with a clap of her hands, beaming a smile up at me.
“Twix,” I confirm, unable to hide my own grin. “Not even my MC brothers know those codes, I always buzz them in, so you keep these secrets for life, understand?”
“Oh my, do they know about your secret sweet addiction?” she teases as we climb the stairs.
“They absolutely do not, and they will never find out,” I growl. “That’s another secret you will keep. You promise me?”
I expect her to tease me further, or even joke about what great blackmail material I’ve given her; but instead, at the top of the stairs, she puts a hand on my arm to stop me. She turns me around and looks directly into my eyes. “I promise, Roman. There aren’t many men who would help me the way you have. You can trust me with anything, I swear to you.” She leans into me; and when our lips meet, the passion between us ignites instantly into a raging inferno. Her hands wander freely down my chest as I pull her as close to me as I can. After only a few short moments, however, she lightly pushes me back, smiling up at me. “I mean it, Roman. Anything, even your secret cookie fetish.”
“It’s not a fetish, woman,” I growl. My voice is husky from the feelings she constantly awakens in me. “I’m not going to eat a Twix out of your…” I stop myself before I complete the sentence, turning abruptly and leading the way into the house.
“What were you about to say?” Charlotte asks behind me as we step into my kitchen.
“Nothing, I got distracted,” I deflect. “I’m going to start cooking. Do you want to take a shower or change or something?”
“Oh God, you don’t know how good a hot shower sounds,” she moans. “Wait, is that a hot tub out there on the porch?” she asks as she looks out the huge bay windows in my kitchen.
“Yeah, my back gets a little sore from long rides sometimes,” I confess. “That thing is a life-saver after a long haul.”
“Good to know,” she says. “I don’t have any clothes or anything with me yet. I’ll need to go back to the rental to get all my things tomorrow. For now, could I borrow a t-shirt and some boxers maybe?”
“Yeah, of course,” I agree. I lead her on a tour of my house, ending up in my bedroom. “There’s a big-ass tub in the bathroom if you want to soak, or you can just hit the shower stall there,” I point out.
“Thanks, Roman. I can figure it out from here.” She gives me one last small smile before she takes the black t-shirt and boxers from my hands and disappears into the bathroom.
I’m devilishly tempted to follow her in there when I hear the water start running in the tub, but I pull myself away and head back into the kitchen. Breakfast for dinner is a quick meal, but it will still take me fifteen minutes to whip up everything.
I’m just setting out two plates on the dining room table when Charlotte emerges from the bathroom, her hair wrapped up in a messy, wet bun on top of her head.
“Don’t say a word,” she warns me as she walks over and stands in front of me, before leaning up to kiss me lightly on the lips.
“I can’t resist,” I tell her as I grab the back of the t-shirt she’s wearing and pull her to me. “You look adorable.” I lean in and kiss her back, more forcefully, until she practically melts against me and our tongues meet as the kiss heats up and the spark between us bursts into another inferno.
“Whew,” Charlotte says as she pulls away from me a few minutes or an hour later. “We’d better sit down and cool off before our food does. No one likes cold eggs,” she adds as she pulls out her chair.
“The blush in your cheeks could reheat them,” I tease her, causing her to become even more flushed than I had previously seen her.
“I get a little red in the cheeks when I’ve been drinking, or…” she trails off as she shovels a bite of food into her mouth.
“Or what?” I demand as I sit down at my own plate.
“Or if I get aroused,” she says primly, before giving me a devilish grin. “I’m starting to worry my cheeks may never cool off around you, Roman.”
“Cheers to that,” I tell her as I raise a glass of orange juice.
We spend the next few minutes eating in comfortable silence, the only sound the scrape of forks on plates. Once she’s done, Charlotte leans back in her chair and watches me.
“What?” I ask curiously, blotting my mouth with a napkin. “Egg on my face?”
“No,” she replies with a smile. “I was just thinking that there’s a lot more to you than I expected.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. You own several rental houses. That’s how you make a living?”
“Well, the Savage Kings own them. I sort of oversee the administration and upkeep on them. The members of the Kings all have ownership in several businesses that we all profit from too.”
“It seems so odd thinking of you all as businessmen. Do all the guys work within them?” Charlotte asks.
“Mostly, yeah,” I confirm. “My boy, Winston, the guy with black hair and a black beard, he’s probably my best friend, but he’s a
