Cary (Henchmen MC Next Generation 5)

I couldn’t help but smile at her excitement, though, as I grabbed my charger and cut.

She emerged less than five minutes later, fresh-faced with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and bright, happy eyes.

It took a lot of fucking self-preservation not to reach for her again right then. To take her back to the bed now that Dezi would be distracted, and we wouldn’t have any interruptions.

But I couldn’t.

It wasn’t right.

She needed space.

And I needed to fucking respect that.

“Ready?” I asked, tucking my wallet into my pocket.

“For a ride on your death machine? Not quite. But to check out the apartment? Totally.”

Fuck.

The bike.

Her arms holding on tight. Her breasts crushed to my back. Her thighs wrapped around mine.

Christ.

I should have taken an ice-cold shower. I should have taken matters into my own hand. Maybe then I would be able to think fucking straight.

As it was, I braced myself for the discomfort, and tried to have my head wander anywhere but to the woman nestled behind me on the bike on the short ride over to the apartment.

“Any rules about fixing shit up in there?” I asked the landlord as we stood on the street out front of the boarded-up shop his father used to run.

“Nah, man. Do whatever you want. Anything would be an improvement,” he added, wincing a bit at the admission. “Got the month left on the dumpster out back too if you need it. And, ah, shit. What else are landlords supposed to say?” he asked, clearly out of his element. “Oh, yeah. Pets,” he said, looking over at the pet store. “I don’t give a shit,” he added, shrugging. “I mean, if it wrecks the joint, you just lose your security deposit, right?”

“Right,” I agreed, nodding.

“Alright. Good. Yeah. That’s it then, right? Unless you want a tour.”

“I think we can manage,” I said, taking the key.

“Alright. Good. Good. Enjoy,” he said, giving Abigail a tight smile as she bounced on her heels, wanting to get the technical shit over so she could go and check out the place.

“Do the honors,” I invited as we went in the side entrance that had a small foyer and a staircase leading up.

I was pleased to notice the steps creaked up a fucking storm as we went up them. There was no way anyone could come up on them without making a racket. We’d hear anyone coming.

The door would need some better locks. Maybe a security system, depending on how shit went.

As for the apartment itself, it wasn’t a whole lot to write home about. There was a living space that led right into the kitchen with a small space to the side where a dining table was likely supposed to go. The appliances were dated, but not so dated that they wouldn’t work.

The short hallway had a linen closet, a full bathroom with some truly heinous green tile on the floors and walls, then one bedroom that would maybe fit a queen bed if you were willing to sacrifice one nightstand for the bigger sleep space.

“It’s amazing,” Abigail declared when we finished the short walkthrough.

I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath for her opinion until it rushed out of me, sounding a lot like relief. Because, quite frankly, I wouldn’t have been surprised or offended if she declared it was hideous. Since it pretty much was.

“Yeah?” I asked, brows knitting. “Are we looking at the same apartment, love?” I added, smirking at her.

“No. I like that it’s kind of ugly, y’know? The uglier it is, the prettier it can be made, right?”

“That’s a very glass-half-full way of looking at it,” I said, nodding.

“I’ve never had a space I could decorate before,” she told me. “I mean, of course, your opinion counts more, but—“

“Nope. I’m gonna stop you right there,” I cut her off. “Your opinion is all that matters when it comes to fixing this place up.”

“No, that’s ridiculous. You’re the one paying for everything.”

“It’s your apartment. I don’t give a fuck if you want to paint it all Pepto fucking pink, love. Let your imagination run wild with it.”

“Cary…” she said, shaking her head.

“Hey,” I said, reaching out, snagging her chin, and jerking it up. “We’ve been over this, haven’t we? Don’t worry about what I think. And, while you’re at it, don’t go worrying about the cost of fixing it up either. I want to do this.”

“I’m going to pay you back.”

“If it makes you feel better to think that, go ahead. But that isn’t happening,” I added, smiling when she let out a long-suffering sigh, like I was being a pain in her ass.

I figured that was a good thing.

Because she’d never been around a man she could show her annoyance with. She felt comfortable enough with me to make it clear she was frustrated with me.