War of Hearts (Storm MC Reloaded 2)
“It’s a coleus bonsai. The man at the nursery told me it’s one of the easiest plants to grow, so I’m hoping that means death is not coming for it.”
He laughs again, and I think about how he’s changed in the last four years. I’m only beginning to get a sense of all these changes, but he seems lighter, not as tightly wound. “You don’t have a green thumb?”
“My thumb is so far from green it isn’t funny. I have a blazing red thumb, but I’m determined to keep at least one plant alive during this lifetime.”
“What else did you do today?”
“I finished unpacking, did my grocery shopping for the week, prepped lunches for the week, bought a dryer, did a heap of washing and drying, planned out some work stuff for the week, and drank copious amounts of tea while I thought about you.”
“Christ, tell me again how you’re awake right now? It’s not like you can even blame your lack of sleep on too much caffe
ine since you’re still cock-blocking it.” And there’s that playful tone again.
“You can’t see me right now, but I’m poking my tongue at you.”
“Fuck, why am I not looking at you right now? Switch to Facetime.”
A moment later, Fury’s face fills my phone screen, and I momentarily stop breathing. Seriously, the man is too good-looking. He’s on his couch, head resting against the back of it, with his fingers running through his hair. My eyes are quickly drawn from his face to what I can see of his arms, which is a whole lot of muscle and ink.
“I can only see your face,” he says.
“It’s called Facetime for a reason.”
His lips twitch with amusement. “I was hoping for some ZaraTime, princess.”
“And what exactly is ZaraTime? Like, which part of Zara would you like to spend time with?”
Heat flares so brightly in his eyes that I feel it even though I’m nowhere near him. “Every fucking part. And take your time with it; I’ve got four years of need to get through here.”
Oh. My.
As I slowly lower my phone to my throat, I say, “How did we get from talking about bonsai to you using your bossy voice on me?”
“You have a knack for shifting a conversation fast.”
“Ah, I seem to recall you shifted this one.”
“Baby, stop talking and start showing me some skin.”
He’s. Killing. Me.
I bring the phone back up to my face. “I don’t want our first time to be on the phone, Fury,” I say softly. “I want to be with you the first time. I want to see you lose yourself with me.”
“Fuck.” His eyes bore into mine through the phone. “Yeah.”
I could stay in this moment with him forever. It’s a mix of delicious anticipation and connection, all of which I crave with him. “When will I see you next?”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Shit’s busy with the club at the moment, and then I’ve got Noah on Tuesday and Wednesday night. I wanna say tomorrow night, but it’ll depend on whether King has stuff for me to do. What have you got on for the week?”
“I’ve got the retirement village tomorrow afternoon and then a boxing class at night. Tuesday night is yoga; Wednesday night is boxing again; Thursday night I’m with Holly. I’m free on Friday night.”
“What’s at the retirement village?”
“I’m going to start reading with some of the ladies again. You know, the ones whose eyesight isn’t so great anymore.”
“Is that something you’ve always done?”
“Yeah. I started in Sydney just before I left and then found a village in Melbourne to keep doing it.”