His laugh is a low rumble, and the pure confusion on his face makes me laugh too.
A different kind of heat creeps into my face at my confession. “Um, I would never tell my parents this, but I didn’t always want to hold three PhDs or be such a book nerd. Once upon a time I wanted to be like all the other school kids and just let my imagination run wild and life in a fantasy world for as long as possible. I even have a half written manuscript tucked away somewhere back home.”
“Ah, I see.”
“It will never see the light of day so throw away those thoughts I see crossing your face right now.”
His hands move under the blanket and settle on my bare hips.
“We will see about that, baby.”
Pure mischief plays over his handsome expression and I think I’ve made a grave mistake.
I change the topic. “How long have you been with the Savages?”
He lifts a heavy shoulder and looks into the distance for a minute before answering. “A long damn time. Too long, maybe. But I’ll bleed for this club without hesitation.” He pauses and drags his gaze to find mine. “Just like I would for you.”
His words hit me with the force of something I’m not prepared for. I want to say love, but really? Love?
His voice is raw, scraping against my senses and pushes my thoughts deeper giving them roots that bury into my soul.
“Layla, you’re the first good thing I’ve found in years. Maybe ever. You make me want to do better and be the kind of person you need.”
His honesty undoes me. The truth is that powerful sometimes, I’ve come to learn.
My chest cracks open, letting the hurt and hope and longing pour through. I shift in his lap, knees straddling his hips, the blanket slipping away to bare my skin to him.
My hands cup his face. “Make love to me,” I whisper, desperate and a little broken. “I need to feel something that isn’t pain. Can you do that? Can you make it last longer? Can you make me remember what it’s like to feel alive?”
For a second, he just looks at me. Really looks. Like he’s trying to decide if this is real. If I am real.
Ten very powerful fingers dig into the flesh of my ass possessively and my head falls back. Then he stands. He places a strong arm beneath my thighs and moves the other to my back, lifting me effortlessly as the blanket falls away. He lays me down on his bed, spreading me out like I’m something precious and sacred he needs to worship.
I lick my lips and he watches hungrily as my tongue darts over the plump flesh.
Lips come over my pulse point and the second the tip of his tongue strokes over my skin I want to melt into him.
I have never wanted to be fucked so bad in my life.
“And don’t you dare be gentle.”
9
BEAST
This woman is going to be the end of me.
I move to the edge of the bed, every muscle tight and straining with the need to be careful, to be right for her. I strip off my sweats and then my shirt. The cotton slides over skin that still feels too rough, too marked for a woman as soft and delicate as my Layla. Her eyes follow my every move with a softness in them that undoes me.
I kneel beside her, hands braced on either side of her body, and press a kiss to her collarbone, tasting the sweetness of her skin and the wild, stubborn note that’s all Layla. How else could she have survived the last five months if not stubborn to the core?
“If you ever want me to stop, you say the word. I mean it, Layla. You’re in charge here.”
She doesn’t answer with words. Instead, she curls her fingers in my hair and pulls me down for a kiss that’s pure hunger and need.
Her mouth is sweet and desperate beneath mine. She tastes of coffee and courage, her lips parting to welcome me in. I kiss herslow, learning every line, every sound she makes, letting her set the pace. My hands slide over her waist, up her ribs, memorizing her softness.
She is both strong and fragile and in my eyes she will forever be steel wrapped in silk. I worship her with my hands and my mouth, trailing kisses from her throat down the center of her chest, pausing to suck and nip at the peak of one breast until she’s arching into me, her hands twisted in the sheets.
