“Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t tell you—not again—how dangerous my job is. You don’t get it. I don’t stay on point, I end up dead.”
“I do get it, but you want me to just stay in the house all day, and I hate it. I’m sick of cooking and trying to clean. I want to help.”
“You’re sounding like a housewife,” he teases.
That’s another thing I don’t care for. He sees me as this fragile little woman whom he has to protect. Duke doesn’t see Nic that way, not entirely. She’s strong and fierce, and it doesn’t matter that she’s waddling these days, because she can still be mean as hell. The men all seem to respect Holly. She’s taken care of business when need be. Even Cheyenne is respected for helping negotiate a peace treaty between the club and Leo Scavo. Part of me feels that should have been me since I have a history with him. We come from the same culture, and we quite literally speak the same language.
But it wasn’t me. I was stuck in this house, unable to do anything to help clean up the mess I created. Right where Ryan wants me to be as his little lady, all sweet and protected. If I didn’t know him better, I might think he wants me to end up like Nic—incapable of doing anything but playing housewife. But even Nic is more than a housewife. I know damn well that she advises Duke in his dealings with the club. He talks to her when they lie together. He lets her in when things go bad, and he knows better than to shut her out.
“You help by taking care of me.”
“No. Stop forcing me out. You promised you wouldn’t shut me out. You promised I could go on a run one day.” I spin around to face him, tip my chin up, and do my best to meet his eyes. He doesn’t remember it, of course, but he did promise me I could go on a run. He was just high and about to pass out at the time. But he promised, and I want to cash in. I’ve done dozens of loads of laundry, folded countless pairs of jeans, and have prepared too many meals to count. My life should amount to more than my ability to spread my legs and feed my man.
“You are everything that matters in my life.” Placing a gentle kiss below my ear, he takes in a deep breath, smelling me. “You know what I want. I want you safe and protected and in our bed. I don’t want you involved in the fucked-up shit I got to do. And I don’t want to worry about you.”
I can’t just sit back and watch him go about his day to day business while I do absolutely nothing helpful. Feeding him doesn’t count. Cleaning his clothes doesn’t count. The fact that I have no part of his daily life is a huge part of our problem, and I’m not willing to let this continue to drive us further and further apart.
“Please.”
“No.”
“I’m not giving you what you want until you give me what I want.”
My heart sinks. We can’t go over this—not again. I’m just not ready. No matter how much he promises it won’t change things, I just don’t buy it. He’s my everything. And he always will be. It’s not the commitment that I fear—it’s the title.
Wife.
Chapter 2
“Ryan,” I whisper.
“No. Fuck you and your bullshit. You know what I want, and I’m not going to bring it up again, but you’re making it real easy to find someone else to suck my dick.”
The breath is knocked out of me with his words. When I first got here, I’d have cried at that. It still throws me off center—the threats of infidelity—but I’m learning how to handle them now. I know he does it to get a reaction out of me, and I don’t want to give him one, but I can’t help myself. He just makes me so angry.
Well, if he wants Angry Alex, he sure as fuck has found her.
“Do it and I’ll chop it off,” I say and raise my eyebrows. His jaw ticks in response as anger flashes in his eyes. Hm. Seems Mr. Big Mouth doesn’t like being threatened any more than I do. Well, too fucking bad. I swear to God, if that man pulls some shit like that on me, I’ll go Lorena Bobbitt on his ass. “Try me.”
“Pissed off yet?” he asks. Excitement shines in his eyes. Annoying prick. Between us, he bulges in his jeans at the prospect of a making up.