“I’m master only in the bedroom.” He clipped the key onto a chain which he put around his own neck. “We’ll get you a vanilla necklace—a socially acceptable collar—to wear outside the apartment.”
And then Malcolm kissed me hard, dragging me back into his embrace. He flipped me over so my back rested on the mattress, then leaned over me.
God, I was so hungry for him. For obvious reasons, we hadn’t made love last night, but I wanted him inside me right now. I was bare beneath his shirt and already wet—had been since he’d shown me the collar.
I could see the need in his gaze too.
Moaning, I arched, pushing my legs apart so Malcolm could thrust inside me—joining our bodies. And Malcolm didn’t stop until we both came.
I never wanted to be parted from him again.
He traced the collar’s edge. “Mine.”
“Yours.”
Oh, yes, I was home alright—right where I belonged.
Epilogue
Kate
Three weeks later, I was going through my stuff, getting ready for the big move at the end of the semester. The weekend before, I’d retrieved the boxes from my father’s house, right before his big move to California.
It wasn’t a tearful goodbye. In fact, he wasn’t even there. I’d let myself in, grabbed my crap, and left the keys on the kitchen counter.
Good riddance, jerkface.
I had three piles in my bedroom—take, toss, and donate. So far, the “take” pile was winning, but I’d always been a bit of a pack rat.
Poppy knocked on my door. “Busy?”
“I’m due for a break.”
She plopped down on my bed, spreading out like she owned the place. Then she grabbed my plush Mickey, holding him in her lap. He was definitely coming with me.
“How’s the big job?” Poppy asked.
A week ago, I’d been formally hired as a social media assistant. Malcolm and I had informed human resources we had a “social relationship outside the bounds of the office” and there’d been some forms to sign. It was a relief to not sneak around anymore, and no one else could use it against us.
Speaking of, Seth hadn’t been charged with attempted rape, but the police report was on file in case he tried to hurt someone else.
“The kefir campaign is ready to launch next week. I can’t wait to see what happens.” According to my predictions, the company would have lots of sales. Then maybe they’d hire us for their next big product. “Which reminds me, I’ve got some granola bars for you to try.”
“Can’t you ask Darcy?”
“Nope.”
I was working on a social media blitz for a new brand of flax seed bars, and I already had a few ideas brewing. Tomorrow morning, I’d pitch them at the meeting.
“What about your boy?” Her eyes were doing a twinkly thing like she couldn’t hold her sparkle in or something.
“The man, Pop. He’s forty years old.”
“Fine, how’s your man?”
“He’s great.” Fantastic, actually.
“You’re so moving in with him, aren’t you? And then you’re gonna get married and have babies.”
“Easy, there, one step at a time.”
Malcolm had offered to let me move in with him, though I hadn’t agreed to it. Yet. If our past history was any indication, it was only a matter of time.
“Please, your love is on the fast track.”
She leaned in as though we were about to share secrets. “I’m so happy for you.”
Hmm.
Poppy had been in such a good mood lately. I’d caught her singing the other day as she was doing the dishes. No one was content when scrubbing chicken remains off a sheet pan.
“And what about you? How’s the rock god?” I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out what she wasn’t telling me.
Her cheeks flushed. “Yeah, um, about that…I may have gotten drunk with Sebastian the other night.”
“And…?” I grabbed her hands, holding them tight. Had she actually made a move on her hot as hell stepfather?
Her lips twitched. “We flirted a bit.”
“Then...?”
“Then I might’ve woken up in bed beside him.”
We both screamed like two teenage girls at a boy band concert.
Yes! This had been coming for months. I was so glad she’d decided to go for it—Poppy and Sebastian could be perfect for each other. Or maybe I just wanted my best friend settled with an older man so we could do couples things together.
Yeah, I’m a bit selfish. So what?
“Okay, I’m going to need to know everything. And unlike you, I want the R-rated version. Did you get to see the tour bus?” I wiggled my eyebrows in a very suggestive manner.
“Tour bus?”
“It’s a metaphor. So come on, tell me everything.”
“Sorry, I’m not ready to give you the full story. Not until I figure out what’s going on.” She tossed Mickey to me and strutted to the door.
“All I get are some tidbits and innuendo? That sucks. You can’t be serious.”
“But I am.”
“That’s not fair, Poppy.”
“Because you told me right away when you started seeing Malcolm?”
Talk about a low blow.
“Okay, you have a point.” With a groan, I laid down on the bed.
“Then this story will be continued—on my terms.”
“When? I’m going to lose it if you don’t spill soon.”
Poppy swaggered out the door. “You'll be okay,” she called from down the hallway. “And I’ll be in touch.”
She’d better—I needed all the dirt.
But, in the meantime, my life was pretty great. I no longer freaked out about my future.
Malcolm had given me some good advice, and I planned on enjoying the ride, no matter where the road took me.
I couldn’t wait to see where it led.
Wild Ride is next.
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About the Author
Cynthia Rayne is the USA TODAY bestselling author of the Lone Star Mobster Series, the Let it Ride Series, and the Four Horsemen MC Series. While Cynthia was born and raised a damn Yankee in Ohio, her parents hail from Dixie, and she grew up on homemade buttermilk biscuits and southern wisdom. In her spare time, she enjoys shopping, reading way too many romance novels, and drinking a truly obscene amount of coffee.
Copyright
© Cynthia Rayne 2017
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review or book discussion, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
Editing
Editing by Elizabeth
Edits by Jade
Stock Photo
curaphotography via Can Stock Photo
Cover Art
Mayhem Cover Creations
Disclaimer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s wicked imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and frankly a bit creepy.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
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Rough Ride (Let it Ride Book 1) Page 13
