Suddenly, there was a jiggle of the doorknob. My heart shot through the roof in a panic, and I turned to the door. There was a curse on the other side, some fumbling. I stood up, taking slow steps to the door. I reached for the gun at my thigh, but the voice grumbling on the other side sounded vaguely familiar. The sound of the key slid home, and seconds later, Crush came barreling in.
“Brianna!” he bellowed.
I threw myself in his arms, and tears were rushing down my face. It took a moment for Crush to reciprocate the hug, his large arms wrapping around me. I felt rather than saw the cast on his left hand. His face nuzzled into my hair, and his hands drew slow circles on the bare skin of my back. I don’t know how long we stayed there, just holding each other. I remember his hand leaving, the sound of the key falling on the floor. Crush closed the door and locked it. After a moment, when the tears had dried up, I looked up at him.
“Crush, I’m so sorry,” I said. “I was so worried about you, and—”
He pressed his lips to mine.He knew everything, I thought. And I relaxed into the kiss, happy to have him alive and in my arms. The icy grip that had been around my heart all night eased, the love that Crushed poured into the kiss replacing it. It felt so nice and so right to be in his arms again. We pulled away, and he looked at me.
“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked, his eyes wide. But there was a hungry look to his face, that he was liking all that was on display. And I couldn’t have cared less that King bought it for me. The way Crush was ogling at me made me feel like a vixen. “Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart. But hot damn, you’re fucking smoking.”
“King bought it for me when he tried to sleep with me,” I explained, and Crush’s face fell into a grim line. That little tidbit had made him less appreciative—the thought of King seeing me in such a way. “But I didn’t put it on. I only wore it tonight to distract him, but he wasn’t at the Cosmo. And the biker there had said he wasn’t at the Bellagio either. It’s been a wild night.”
“You’re telling me,” he sighed. “But soon, very fucking soon, we won’t have to worry about King anymore.”
I took his right hand and led him over to the couch. He followed me easily, like he was home in the space. And just like that week of pure and utter bliss, he relaxed against the arm of the couch and brought me on his lap. He ran a sure hand down my bare arm, and I could feel the bulge in his pants. But there were things that needed to be said, air to clear, before we went anywhere down that path. So we swapped tales of how the night went.
I told Crush about everything after his capture. King trying to seduce me, Prince finding a way to talk to me by faking an injury—which Crush thought was very funny—and getting the burner phone and my trusty weapon. I also went into the complete version of what had happened at the penthouse, what the biker said, and I could see his jaw twitch. But before he could go on a rampage, I added that no one at the penthouse knew where King was.
Deciding to opt for complete honesty this time around with him, I told Crush my personal plan for King tonight. And my whole plan, not just the barebones one I had told him at Henderson Park last night. By the time I was done explaining every detail of a plan I had to admit I was rather proud of, Crush was laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, trying but not succeeding at fighting a smile.
“Your back-up plan was to shoot King?” he answered between chuckles. He looked at me dead in the eye. “What kind of gun? And where would you even hide it wearing that devil of a dress?”
I moved off of his lap and stood up. His gaze followed me lazily and followed my hand as I slid the slit of the dress over just enough to reveal the plan. His eyes widened when I showed him the holster on my thigh. Now it was my turn to laugh. I pulled out the little gun and handed it to a pretty awestruck Crush. Which just made me feel even more powerful.
“I had thought of that,” I said. “And I rush ordered this from Amazon. Pretty sneaky, huh?”
He looked at the gun from every angle, analyzing the little revolver I had purchased—for quite the steal, I might add. Next, Crush carefully unloaded it and set it on the coffee table. Satisfied, he turned to me, a serious expression on his face. I was still too prideful to anticipate his next move, which was tackling me to the couch, his lips fusing to mine. I threw my arms around his neck, bringing him closer. I felt him shaking above me, and I pulled away, concerned. But the bastard was laughing again.
“God, you’re so fucking sexy. That has got to be the hottest thing I have ever seen,” he smiled and then pressed a little peck to my lips. When he pulled away, his face was serious again. “But Jesus, woman, if you do something like that again, you’ll be sending me to an early grave. I promise you, Brianna, that you will never be in a position to ever use it.”
“I know, it was only hypothetical,” I smiled up at him. His disapproval of me getting the gun only made him sexier. “But I trust my big, strong biker boyfriend to keep me safe.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” he smirked, looking down at me.
I pecked his lips with a kiss. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“It already has,” Crush said, grinding his erection into my hips.
I let out a startled moan, and Crush kissed me in a way that made me feel like I was floating. But he backed off of me and went back to resting on the arm of the couch. This time, I laid down against the length of his body. He held me close to him as if he was scared I was going to disappear in apoof.
And then Crush told me his side of the night. About the Black Reapers and taking the Chinatown warehouse. The ensuing gunfight that broke out, which was inevitable when it came to MC turf battles. He told me about the power of freedom, how it felt being so close to it when he was in the middle of the crossfire being tackled by some meathead.
And he told me about the prospect, Terror. Apparently, it was the same guy that I had seen picking up shards of glass the first night we had met. The night Crush had been—purposefully, he admitted—shot in the leg. I could resist telling himI knew it!and he just smiled and laughed along.
That night felt forever ago, and almost like a dream. There was a sense of nostalgia almost, despite that it had only been a month.What I wanted done in six, Crush made happen in one, I thought. And I reveled in the freedom I had now. King might be a good businessman, but Crush was better at strategy than King cared to give him credit for.
“Vegas isn’t safe anymore,” he finished, looking into my eyes. “We need to leave, Brianna.”
“I feel safe,” I replied. “When I’m with you, I know I’m safe. Wherever you go, I’ll follow. I want to help in whatever way I can. But I know that I’m better with you than I am without.”
“I don’t know; you do have a gun,” Crush smirked sarcastically.
“Yes, but I don’t love the gun like I love you,” I replied before I could stop myself.
There was a pause, and then all bets were off. Crush came at me like a bull, and I more than welcomed him. His hands tore the dress in shreds, leaving me in just the thong and heels. He plucked me off the couch, carrying me to the bedroom. He wasted no time taking off the rest of my outfit and shedding his own clothes.
