Renny (The Henchmen MC 6)

With that, his arms slid from my stomach and around my lower back as he pulled me down the hall and toward his door.

"Home sweet home, honey," Renny said behind me as he shut the door.

It was a nice room. Private. After so many years at Hailstorm, it was easy to forget what a normal bedroom was like. He had a giant (to me, used to a twin bunk) queen bed covered in a green and brown comforter with the white sheets fresh and tucked down over the top. The walls were a deep green with various framed sketches in graphite or even full color. There was a deep brown dresser inside the door with a TV on top and a door beside that to the bath.

Really, were it not for the towering form of Renny, it was practically a vacation.

"Don't call me honey," I reminded him as he fought to pull my bag from my hand.

He ignored that as he tapped the dresser behind me. "I cleared out a drawer here, half the closet, and two drawers in the bathroom."

"Why?" I asked, turning to look at him, brows drawn together.

"Because you're supposed to be my woman and that means you need to look like you live here. They bought that you were away on a work trip, but you need to settle in."

"Alright," I agreed, but moved to the closet and put my bag at the bottom. I wasn't ready to settle in. A part of me was sure I might run at any minute. "So, I know Laz..."

"The bearded one is Cyrus. He plays guitar at a coffee shop. Charming. Laid-back. Reeve is his older brother. He's an electrician. More tight-lipped."

"And there here because..."

"Their pops was a member before he was killed."

"So, this is a legacy thing?" I asked, brows drawing together.

"Cyrus made the same argument," he nodded.

An awkward silence fell then as we both just stood there- me by the closet, him near the door. "Let me just clear this up right now, Renny. I'm here to work."

"You go ahead and do that, Mina. And I will work on breaking down those walls of yours."

"Renny," I sighed, shaking my head. "Give up."

"Can't do that, sweetheart. But what I can do is say I sleep on the left side of the bed and I have to have the TV on or every fucking thing wakes me up."

"I sleep with headphones on at Hailstorm," I commiserated.

"I will remember to put the seat down but I leave my shoes every fucking where."

"Why are you..."

"I don't snore, but I sometimes have entire conversations in my sleep. It's weird as fuck. Oh, and blanket stealing will not be tolerated."

Damn him. I felt my lips curve up at the end of his little speech. "Good to know," I said, realizing for the first time that I would have to share a bed with him. I thought he would be considerate enough to bring in a cot or something. But of course not. Why would he do that when all he had wanted for months was to get me into a bed?

"Your turn," he prompted.

"My turn?"

"Tell me your little life secrets. You know, so I know what to expect. Do you leave the toothpaste in the sink? 'Cause that's fucking disgusting."

"I don't leave the toothpaste in the sink. And, um, I don't snore or talk in my sleep. I clean up after myself because that is what Lo expects at Hailstorm. I like to sleep in mostly because I don't sleep well."

"Alright, so we got that handled," he said as I moved to the door, figuring now was the best time to get to work. The sooner the better. "Ah, I think not," he said, slamming his hand on the door as I reached for it.

"What? Why not? They're all out there. It's the perfect time to catch them, when they're all at-ease."

"Yeah, babe, but we've only been in here five minutes."

"Don't call me babe. And so what?"

"So, I might be cool with a fifteen minute quickie, but you're not walking out of her in under five looking like I didn't even muss your fucking hair. In fact," he said, smile wicked, "maybe you can throw in some throaty 'yes, yes, yeses' or some 'just like that' or, if you're feeling naughty, 'yeah, fuck my pussy!'."

Oh, good lord.

I wasn't exactly shy about sex. And nothing about what he actually said offended me, but I felt my face getting warm as I stood there.

"You blush? No fucking way," he said, grinning huge. "Look at that, it gets redder when you bring attention to it!" he added, clearly delighted by my discomfort. "Do you think they'll turn beet if I maybe," he started, hands raising and framing my face, "said I wonder what you taste like. Sweet? I bet you have the sweetest fucking pussy. There," he said, but his voice wasn't teasing anymore; it was heated; it was low and sexy and promising as his thumbs moved out to stroke over the apples of my cheeks.