Gypsy Soul: A Bad Boy Protector Romance (Lost Boys Book 3)

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  Her chin tips just a tiny bit and one dark brow lifts, showing that streak of defiance I crave. “I don’t even know what this,” Felicity mimics my motion with her finger, “is.”

  “It’s anything you want it to be, Beanie.” I tip up her jutting chin. “Always has been.” I press a kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to believe me just yet, but you will.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’m persistent when I want something. And I want you.” I lean into her ear. “And I intend to have you.”

  “You could have already had me.” Her tone isn’t as strong as it was a second ago, hinting at the disappointment tinting her words.

  “Are you unsatisfied with my services, Felicity?” I suck the lobe of her ear between my teeth and let it slide free. “Was my tongue not enough for you?”

  “I just don’t see why you didn’t want to—”

  “Fuck you?”

  “Yes.” She says the word like she’s relieved I understand.

  I do.

  “I always want to fuck you.” I pull her body tight against mine. “Every second of every day I want to know what it’s like to have my body inside yours. How it feels when your pussy squeezes around me after I make you come so hard you see stars. But—” I pause, making sure she’s still listening.

  “But what?” Her question is breathless. A little hesitant.

  “This isn’t about what I want. Not right now.” I take her mouth, giving her a little taste of the need clawing at me with razor sharp nails. When I finally make myself stop I’m struggling to breathe. I let her see it. Felicity needs to know what she does to me and I have no problem torturing myself to give it to her.

  I’ll give her whatever she needs. Always.

  Her breathing is as ragged as mine as Felicity pushes into me, taking back the kiss I ended. Her hands are in my hair, strong and sure and confident. Her mouth is soft but demanding, and the moment quickly belongs to her.

  Because she takes it.

  She takes what she wants instead of holding back, scared I won’t give it to her.

  Scared I will.

  Felicity holds me tight, spinning our fused bodies, slamming mine back against the car as she presses tighter.

  This is getting away from me. Spiraling so far out of my control that I’m pretty sure I’ll never get it back.

  But if this is how an in-control Felicity is, then I’m not mad about it.

  Her lips pull from mine and she leans back, blue eyes hooded as they move over mine.

  One hand trails down the center of my chest, a single finger snaking over my pec before teasing one nipple through my shirt. The edges of her mouth lift and I get a peek at what’s in store for me once Felicity gets her footing in this relationship.

  “What if we both want the same thing?”

  11

  “YOU NEED A break?” Gypsy glances my way.

  We’ve been on the road for two hours.

  I haven’t given him a single direction. He obviously knows where we’re going, which means he knows more about me than I realized.

  And I don’t know shit about him.

  Except he’s super good at not having sex with me even though all signs indicate he wants to.

  Which is...

  Interesting.

  And for some reason makes me feel all sorts of things I’ve never felt before.

  “Maybe.” I try to straighten out my legs. The car isn’t small, but considering I’m mostly leg, there’s still not enough room for me to really stretch. “Just for a minute.”

  Or five. Or ten.

  Or a week.

  The closer we get to Cookeville, the less excited I am about seeing my family.

  And the less excited I am about Gypsy seeing everything else.

  Gypsy pulls off the highway and into the parking lot of a high-end grocery store. The same kind I normally shop at. “Let’s go in and get you something to eat.”

  I blow out a sigh. “I don’t always need to eat.”

  “You need to eat more than most people.” He gives me a serious look. The kind I’m used to seeing him direct only my way. “Especially considering the kind of shit you like to eat.”

  “It’s not shit.”

  “It’s also not got enough calories in it.” Gypsy slides out of the car and comes to my side just as I get out. He traces a finger down the front of my neck. “You had it checked lately?”

  My immediate reaction is to pull away from his touch. I’ve gotten shit my whole life for looking the way I do.

  You’re so fucking skinny.

  Everyone knows not to comment on a woman’s weight if she’s thick, but thin girls are fair game.

  And it’s never the compliment they pretend it is.

  It also turns out men don’t like skinny women as much as magazines make you think they do. I’ve been told more than once I would be sexy ‘if I had more meat on my bones’.

  That’s always fun.

  But Gypsy’s never said anything about any of it. Not my bony frame. Not my nonexistent chest. Not my knobby knees and sharp elbows.

  And it makes me want to give him a little more of the things I don’t give anyone else. “I have it checked every six months.”

  “Do you have to take medicine?”

  The concern in his voice is almost painful for me. An injury I know I should dodge but can’t seem to avoid. “Not yet.”

  “How long has it been...” His lips lift in a wry smile. “Going rogue?”

  I laugh at his accurate description of my problematic thyroid. “Years.”

  His brows lift. “That’s a long time.”

  “It is.” I’ve been on the cusp of hyperthyroidism since I was a teenager. The only symptom of the disease is my inability to gain weight. “But it hasn’t progressed much until the past year or so. Still not enough to need any sort of intervention yet.”

  I’ve been lucky I guess. I should be grateful that I’ve been able to stay on the edge without having any problems with my heart or any of the other ugly things that could happen if my thyroid decides to be more of a pain in the neck.

  “But there’s medicine if it does, right?”

  “There is, but—” I catch the next words before they can jump out, pressing my lips together so I don’t make a mistake I’ve made many times before.

  Each time I ended up getting the whole spiel about how I was trying to move too fast.

  And then I got dumped.

  “But what, Beanie?”

  “Nothing.” I turn to go inside but Gypsy catches me.

  His arms wrap around my body and hold me tight, but his voice and eyes are soft. “Tell me.”

  I have trusted too many men. Let too many close when they had no intention of staying, not that I knew it at the time.

  None of them deserved it. My trust or the truth.

  But this one does.

  “It’s not something you can take when you’re pregnant.” I don’t connect all the dots of the statement, hoping he won’t either.

  “So you’re sort of on a schedule.”

  That was an unfortunate thing for him to come up with so easily. “I guess you could say that.”

  Gypsy presses a kiss to my forehead. “Makes sense. Get all your kids out before you have to mess with the other.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the store. “What are you hungry for?”

  Somehow I manage to follow along behind him, a little stunned and a lot shocked.

  Men are supposed to freak out when a woman mentions pregnancy and kids and the fact that she’s on a limited budget when it comes to the time management of those life events.

  But Gypsy doesn’t seem even a little bothered by it, and that’s throwing me for a loop. It’s one thing to not be ready to shove me out the door, but not even blinking when talking about the potential of me wanting to have kids sooner rather than later seems...

  Too good to be true.

  Just like everything else with this man.
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br />   Aside from the intimidating beast hiding in his pants.

  Gypsy heads straight for the sushi kiosk where three men stand behind the glass assembling various rolls. He grabs two containers of my favorite spicy tuna rolls and adds them to the basket slung over one arm before continuing on to the salad bar where he loads a container with spinach, eggs, carrots, and tomatoes, before topping it with a sweet poppy seed dressing.

  I follow silently, watching as the man I’ve been giving every kind of hell I could think up adds all my go-to lunches to the basket then leads me to the checkout where he bags it all a pays for it.

  I reach for my purse. “I’ll get it.”

  “You don’t have your purse. It’s in the car.” Gypsy doesn’t even look from the screen of the self-checkout register. He finishes the transaction and grabs the bags with one hand and mine with the other, lacing his long, strong fingers with mine.

  He opens the car door for me and waits while I sit down, then hands me all the bags before shutting me in.

  I’m not usually at a loss for words. It’s one of my major downfalls. I’ve never been great at keeping my mouth shut. Maybe it’s a result of how I grew up, or maybe I’m just naturally a pain in the ass, but right now I am speechless.

  In the past twenty-four hours I’ve been in a perpetual state of shock, and it all started because I thought the man climbing into the car beside me abandoned me.

  Gypsy starts the car and reaches for the bag with our drinks, pulling my tea and his soda free and putting them in the console on the raised portion of the floorboard between our seats. “I’m going to get back on the road. I want to get there early.”

  “How do you know where to go?”

  Gypsy’s movements barely hitch and his eyes don’t meet mine. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

  No. “Yes.”

  His hazel gaze lifts, unwavering and honest. “I had Tracker do a search last night.”

  My stomach falls to my feet. “What all do you know?”

  He studies me for a second. “What do you think is waiting in Cookeville that’s going to change my mind?”

  So. Many. Things.

  “A lot.”

  Gypsy is already shaking his head at me. “There’s nothing that’s going to change my mind about you, Felicity, so you better get used to seeing this face.” He scoots closer, flipping up the armrest separating us as he does. “And the first thing we’re doing after I meet your daddy is going online to pull up my paperwork so I can prove I’m clean, because I don’t want there to be anything between us from this point forward.” His lips brush over mine. “Nothing. Understand?”

  I can’t think too much about what he’s suggesting. The idea of having sex with Gypsy at all is almost overwhelming, let alone the idea of doing it like that.

  “Aren’t you worried about me?”

  His eyes are in line with mine, barely an inch between us. “Should I be?”

  “Uh. Well, I’ve definitely had sex, so...”

  His gaze drops to my mouth. “Unprotected?”

  “Well. No, but—”

  He lets out a breath, long and slow, like he’s been holding it forever. “I know I shouldn’t like hearing that but I do.” He comes closer, pressing tight against me, pulling my body as close as he can in the limited space. “Probably makes me a fuckin’ caveman but I like knowing I’ll be the first one to feel your pussy on my dick.”

  I can’t stop the gasp my body involuntarily sucks in. I don’t think anyone has ever wanted me the way Gypsy claims to.

  “What about you? Have you fucked a woman without a condom?”

  He hesitates long enough for me to feel the bite of unwarranted anger creeping along my skin, leaving it hot and prickled. “Never mind.”

  Gypsy chuckles and pulls me closer. “I like seeing you jealous over me, Beanie.”

  “I’m not jealous. I’m shocked at your irresponsibility.” I shove at him, pissed even though I know I shouldn’t be.

  I just thought maybe if we had sex with nothing it would be a special moment for both of us.

  I push him hard, needing a little space.

  Because I’m suddenly feeling a little stupid and immature. Like I’m falling back into old ways. Ways I worked hard to leave behind.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I’m not really saying it to him. The words are mostly for myself. A way of trying to get out of the mind frame that doomed every relationship I tried to make happen. I push myself straight and tall in my seat. “It’s fine.”

  “God you’re fuckin’ perfect, Beanie.” Gypsy pulls me close again, his lips right against my ear. “Never fucked a woman bareback, Felicity. Never wanted to before. Just you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to tamp the relief and excitement I shouldn’t be feeling. We are both adults with pasts. I shouldn’t care who he’s been with or how he’s been with them.

  But I do.

  And I care about so many other things I shouldn’t, which means one very sad thing.

  “I can’t have sex with you, Gypsy.”

  “I know that, Beanie. You’re not ready yet.” He leans back, one hand coming up to cradle my face. “But I’m a patient man.”

  I’m not sure he’s ever said anything more true in his life. Gypsy took everything I threw at him and never once got angry.

  Not until yesterday, when I accused him of leaving me. Even then it was more frustration that I didn’t understand why he did what he did.

  Which was not what he wanted, but what he thought had to be done to keep me safe.

  “Shit.” I drop my head back to the seat.

  A year ago I would have done any and every thing to get into this man’s pants, thinking sex was the key to locking him down.

  And now here I am doing everything in my power to avoid that same act, even though I want it more than I think I ever have in my life.

  Gypsy smoothes one finger between my brows, working loose the frown pulling them together. “I know this isn’t what you’re used to, Felicity. I know you don’t believe everything I say, and that’s okay.” He waits until I look at him to continue. “Because eventually you will.”

  I let myself look into his eyes, needing to memorize the seriousness there. Needing his calm to help me feel calm. Centered in the way I’ve only ever felt when he was there. “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’m not going anywhere, and eventually you’ll see that I’m different.”

  Calling Gypsy different doesn’t even begin to touch it. This man is unlike almost any others I’ve known.

  With the exception of just a few.

  He brushes a chaste kiss across my lips. “It’s time for us to get moving.” He leans back and moves to his seat, but doesn’t put the armrest back between us. One hand stays on me, resting warm and solid on my thigh as he pulls out of the lot and back onto the highway.

  I pull out the salad he made with an alarming amount of accuracy. I’m sort of a strange eater, so to make something how I like it wouldn’t happen by accident. Only someone who paid very close attention would be able to accomplish what Gypsy just did. After stabbing the disposable fork free of its plastic packaging, I flip open the lid on the clamshell container.

  He’s done nothing but care for me for weeks. Even when I didn’t see it, and sure as hell didn’t appreciate it. Not because I’m ungrateful.

  More because I was scared to death to let myself see it.

  See him.

  I stab into the spinach, carefully collecting a little of everything into one bite before turning to the man who might be the single most patient human on earth. “Would you like a bite?”

  Gypsy glances my way, his eyes catching on my outstretched hand for just a second. “You eat.”

  “I will.” I’ve been with him all morning. He hasn’t eaten anything either. “When you do.” I hold my position, unwilling to back down. I don’t like the thought of him being hungry.

  It bothers me.

  Gy
psy finally leans toward me just a little and opens his mouth. I feed him, careful not to accidentally stab him with the fork as the car hits a little bump in the road. “Do you like salad?”

  I probably should have asked that before I strong-armed him into eating it.

  “I like everything.”

  “That’s convenient.” I take a bite myself and then build another for him, careful to be sure he gets everything again. “I wish I could eat everything.”

  Gypsy’s ready when I come at him this time, taking the fork-full without even looking my way. “You can’t?”

  I shake my head as I eat more. “Tummy troubles.”

  “Then I guess it’s good I’m happy to eat whatever you do.” He eyes the salad as I work up another perfect bite for him. “It’ll make our lives easier.”

  I focus on what I’m doing, trying not to immediately dismiss his words the way I want to.

  Pretend I didn’t hear them. Wish I hadn’t.

  It’s what I’ve been doing since he brought me home from The Stable that night. All it took was a single evening close to him, and all I wanted was to figure out how to make him mine.

  But I knew I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried, I’d never been able to make a man want me as more than a temporary dalliance.

  I want to think about what a future with Gypsy would be like. I want to believe he means everything that he says to me, but he’s right.

  I don’t.

  I can’t.

  But he’s not right about everything.

  Because I do trust him.

  “I’m scared.”

  He’s quiet for a minute, and I’m sure if I was brave enough to look at him Gypsy’s hazel eyes would be on me more than they’re on the road right now.

  “I know that, Beanie.”

  The gentleness in his tone loosens the tightness binding my chest. “I’ve made so many mistakes with men.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Oh it is.” I won’t tell him about all I’ve done. The ways I tried to force relationships. Make men see that I could be what they all claim to want.

  I dressed sexy. I always did my hair. Wore makeup. Acted like women are supposed to act.