She hated them.
But Ink had gotten them for her and she should be grateful.
“Soon as we get you some new panties, these are going in the trash.”
“You can’t put them in the trash!”
“Sure can. They’re dark and plain. I grabbed them in a rush. We’re going to get you pretty things. I’m fond of lace myself.”
It was a startling admission from the big biker with the movie-star face and mouth of a sailor.
She didn’t like that she couldn’t pay for her own things, but she had to admit she was fond of lace herself. The red in her cheeks didn’t dissipate as he held out the panties for her to climb into. He drew them up her legs, settling them into place before reaching for the pair of pants. “You need warmer clothes. Gonna be winter soon.”
“I don’t need a lot.”
He glared up at her. “You need what I say you need.”
“Ink,” she sighed, needing to have this conversation when she wasn’t in Little space. “I don’t need much. You shouldn’t spend all your money on me.”
He snorted. “Take buying more than a few pieces of clothing for me to spend all my money on you. My lack of crap in the house isn’t because I’m broke. It’s because I don’t fucking care.” He stood and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Or I didn’t care. Until you. Everything I have, everything I’ve earned over the years, is ours. Not mine. It’s for both of us. So stop damn well thinking that things are yours or mine. They aren’t. They’re ours.”
She blinked away tears at his words.
“And if I ever hear you say again that you don’t want me to spend our money on you, I’m going to make you wear a vibrating egg for a whole day at work. And I’ll have the remote. You won’t be allowed to come, but I’ll torture you until your panties are soaking wet and you’re begging me to be allowed to come. Understand?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her gently. “Come on, or we’ll be fucking late for our appointment.”
What appointment?
She looked into the mirror, aware of her eyes glistening as she tossed her head back and forth.
“You like it?” the stylist asked anxiously, no doubt seeing that she was about to cry.
“Oh yes. I love it. Thank you so much!”
Relief filled the other woman’s face as she gave Betsy a small smile. Ink stepped forward and the stylist looked him up and down with a gaze of hunger. She got it. Ink had a gorgeous face mixed with muscles and that bad-boy look.
But he was hers.
“You look beautiful, brown eyes,” he told her.
She stood and launched herself at him. He gave a chuckle, holding her close. When she’d learned that the appointment was at one of the best hair salons in the city, she’d nearly chickened out.
She was glad she hadn’t.
It was just hair. She got that. But it was like she was starting to wipe away the last few months.
The hairstyle was different than the one she’d had previously. She’d wanted something new. Now she had bangs and it came to her shoulders in layers. It was edgier. Sharper.
Definitely sexy.
She loved it.
Ink paid. She was floating on a new hairstyle high and didn’t even feel bad about how much it had to have cost.
He slid his hand around hers as she started to walk outside. Tugging her back, he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You just keep hold of my hand, Little girl. I don’t want you wandering off.”