Page 56 of Nightmare’s Playground

Her eyes went to my hand that still had hold of both of her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Knocking you up.”

Her eyes went big, but her pussy fluttered.

Well, fuck me. My girl liked the idea as much as I did. “What do you think about that?”

“Isn’t it too soon for us to be thinking about that? We’re not even dating.”

My eyes narrowed to slits as I collapsed beside her. “There’s no fucking dating, Joy. You’re my woman. I’m your man.”

Her eyes flashed. “Just like that? Don’t you think you need to ask me first?”

“Time for backing out was before.” Reaching over, I grabbed her and hauled her onto my chest. “So, yeah. Just like that. And lose the sass.”

She huffed, but didn’t say anything else.

Thank the Gods for that. I was too fucking tired.

Laying there together, both of us lost to our thoughts, I thought about what fucking Joy now meant for my future. The club was done. No way her brother would let me continue to prospect. I’d fucked that all to hell, but Joy was worth it. However, there was still something she needed to know—something I should have told her before I let things get as far as they’d gotten.

“There’s something you need to know about me,” I breathed as I dropped my eyes to her face.

Her sound asleep face.

Shit.

“I killed a man,” I told her anyway as I ran my hand down the back of her head. “And you should know that.”

She didn’t hear a word, though.

Fuck.

Chapter Twelve

Joy

Lulled to the surface of sleep, I opened my eyes and stretched, and that’s when I felt it. A dull, sweet ache between my legs.

A smile ghosted across my lips.

I had sex last night.

With Nightmare.

Biting my lip, I turned my head on the pillow, and there he was. My hunkaliscious tattooed man sprawled on his stomach, taking up three-fourths of my bed with one arm thrown over my waist like he’d been afraid I might try to escape.

Not a chance.

Lord have mercy. Even asleep, the man was beautiful. Black hair sticking up every which way without his hat, the Grim Reaper on his arm, lashes a woman would kill for fanned out against his cheek.

I let my eyes trail over him, savoring every inch, then kept going—over his shoulder, past his hip, to the nightstand on his side of the bed, and the glowing red numbers on my alarm clock.

I froze.

6:40.

“OH SHIT!”