Her fingers drum on the dash.Then drift.Just a little.Just far enough to rest lightly, wrongfully, on my thigh.I grip the wheel hard.
“Becki,” I warn.
She tilts her head, all false innocence.“What?”
Her nails scrape the seam of my jeans.
“If you touch me again,” I grind out, “I’ll pull this truck over.”
Biting her lip, Becki grabs my dick through my pants.A slow stroke.Heat detonates under my skin.
“So do it.”
The wheel jerks.Gravel sprays.I kill the engine on the shoulder.
The cab goes silent.
I lean across her, bracing one hand against the window beside her head, caging her in.She breathes in sharply, but she doesn’t move away.She never does.
“You want to play?”I whisper.
Her lips barely part.“I want answers.”
“You want me,” I snarl softly.“You want to bleed.”
Her breath trembles.“Yes.”
My hand slides up her thigh, but then I stop.
Because if I don’t, I won’t stop until dawn.Nothing’s holding me back now, not Legend, not the club.Taking Becki out of Hell, I made a choice.
Her.
But we have a demon leaper to hunt.Before it’s too late for Joey.
I restart the engine.We don’t speak the rest of the drive.But the truck is cramped, sweltering, and packed with something volatile.
Next time she touches me, I won’t stop.
Even if it burns everything down.
Chapter 34
Legend
The second I hear Royal took Becki out of the clubhouse, something in me snaps.The rage is instant, white-hot, and before I can stop myself, my fist slams into the concrete wall.The surface cracks under my knuckles, dust falling in slow little flakes like snow.
“She was supposed to be locked up,” I grind out as I round on Oaks, who suddenly finds the floor real interesting.“Who the hell told him he could take her off club grounds?”
“No one,” Oaks mutters.“He didn’t ask.”
“He didn’t ask because he knew damn well what I’d say.”
Royal, quiet, calculating Royal, doing something reckless is worse than anyone else doing it.Because he doesn’t make mistakes.He makes choices.And if he took Becki out, that means he chose her over protocol, over safety, over the club.
Whispers float through the clubhouse behind me.
Snatches of conversation.
