He sure was.

“Tip your hips, Red, I wanna go deep,” he grunted and I did. He went deep and I moaned. “You like that.”

“I do,” I gasped. “I like everything about you, honey. Everything. Lived in black and white seems like all my life. Never noticed. Not until you colored my world.”

Tack went completely still.

I tightened my arms and legs around him, demanding, “Tack, don’t stop!”

He started again. His hand at my ass tipping my h*ps further, he went faster, harder and a whole lot deeper and it took about two seconds before it built so high, it exploded and, clutching him close, I came again.

I was recovering, he was still thrusting and I felt his eyes on my face in the dark. Then I felt the tickle of his goatee and the movement of his lips against mine as he groaned, “Beautiful,” buried himself inside, took my mouth and came, growling down my throat.

I knew his orgasm left him when his kiss gentled. He kept me tight to him and the headboard as he kept kissing me, soft, sweet but still wet and deep.

After he did this a while, and I enjoyed it that while, his lips slid down my cheek to the skin behind my ear and he whispered, “Love that greedy pu**y of yours, Red.”

I turned my head and with my lips at the hair curling around his neck I whispered back, “Good.”

“And your hair,” he went on and I smiled against his neck.

“Good.”

“This ass,” his hand at my ass gave me a squeeze, “your long-ass legs, those heels.”

“I like your cock,” I shared.

“I got that.”

“And your tats.”

“Good to know.”

“And, um, lots of other things.”

He was silent for long moments before he said quietly, “Yeah.”

Then he unfortunately pulled out but held me to him as he yanked the covers from under his knees. He set me in the bed on my back but he didn’t move into me. Straddling me, he bent and kissed my breastbone. Then he moved down and kissed between my br**sts. Down and another kiss at my belly. Down and then, one by one, he took off my shoes but when he did, he kissed the arch of each foot before setting my leg back in the bed.

And as he did this, I watched and deep breathed because something was happening. I was too sated from sex and too drunk to know what it was. I just knew it was something.

Something big.

Mammoth.

Colossal.

“Honey?” I called and he moved back up, straddling me, now at my h*ps but he stopped there and reached out an arm, his hand curling around my throat like he’d done those two times after I was kidnapped.

He didn’t speak but his eyes were on me. I saw them through the dark and I felt them.

“Kane?” I whispered when he didn’t move for a long time.

His hand slid from my throat gliding down my chest, between my br**sts to my belly but he did this not saying a word. Then he moved, shifting to my side and settling there. He reached out to yank up the covers before he tucked me tight to his side, his arm not around my waist but up, his fingers cupping the back of my head and forcing my cheek to his shoulder.

“Is everything all right?” I asked his chest.

“Oh yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

Well, that was firm.

I stared at his chest.

Then I whispered a hesitant, “Okay.”

“How drunk are you, babe?” he asked.

“Drunk.”

“So drunk you’re gonna forget tonight?”

“No. I’ve never been that drunk.”

“We’ll see about changin’ that,” he muttered.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because you’re gonna live life, Red. I’m gonna teach you to suck it dry.”

I took in a deep breath thinking he already was.

Then I whispered again, “Okay.”

“Sleep.”

“Okay.”

“And you forget tonight, I’ll be pissed.”

“I won’t forget, Tack.”

“Be sure about that.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“Are you going to shut up and let me pass out?”

His hand left my head, his arm sliding down and he wrapped it around my waist, pulling me closer.

Then he whispered, “Yeah.”

I snuggled even closer.

Something had happened. I didn’t know what and I stared at his chest while I tried to figure it out.

I did this for about two seconds before I passed out.

* * * * *

I opened my eyes and smelled musk and man. Correction, my man. I liked it but I also felt something else that wasn’t nearly as awesome and instantly I groaned.

Hangover.

Damn.

Tack rolled into me and I groaned again.

He settled, chest partly on mine, and his slumberous eyes caught mine.

“Queasy?” he guessed accurately which made me wonder what I looked like because I knew I had wild hair. I also knew I had leftover makeup which was never attractive but I was deducing I also was green at the gills which was even less attractive.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Day off,” Tack stated.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“You feel shit, day off.”

“But… I’m hungover.”

“Yeah. So you’re gonna take the day off.”

“Tack,” I started to inform him, “you’re my boss. You should frown on an employee taking the day off because she tied one on the night before.”

“Tyra, I’m your boss, I’m your man and I’m a biker. As your boss, you feel shit, you’re not gonna be on your game so you might f**k shit up which means it’s better you’re not in and work doesn’t get done instead of you bein’ in and work gettin’ fucked up.”

I had to admit, this made sense.

He continued, “As your man, you feel shit, I want you to rest and get better.”

And I had to admit to this, it was sweet.

He kept going, “And as a biker, I live wild, I want you to too and I don’t give a f**k if that has the consequences of a day off work to get over a hangover. In fact, I like it. You can make up the time. You can blow it off. The work’ll get done. Work isn’t important. Livin’ a good life wild and free is.”

Maybe it was the hangover but I couldn’t figure out how he could be making sense, I agreed with him at the same time I thought he was sweet when just two and a half weeks ago all he said I would have thought was wrong.