Page 90 of Striker’s Rebel

I stay quiet.

“The club gave me brothers. Figured that was it.”

His eyes hold mine.

“Then I got you.”

My chest aches.

“You have me.”

“I want more.”

“How much more?”

“All of it.”

My heart starts pounding again.

“A home. You in it. Your shit in my bathroom. You stealing my shirts and arguing every time I tell you what to do.”

“I don’t argue every time.”

His mouth twitches.

“Close enough.”

Then he gets serious again.

“I want you there when I come home. Tomorrow. Ten years from now. Fifty if I get lucky.”

My eyes burn.

“Striker.”

“Marry me.”

I stare at him.

“You’re serious.”

“Yeah.”

I glance toward the cabin. Broken window. Smoke still curling out.

“You’re proposing after somebody smoked me out of your house and held me at gunpoint.”

His eyes narrow.

“Is that a no?”

I wrap my arms around his neck.

“No.”

His hands settle at my waist.

“No?”