“Hey.” He pauses before adding, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.” Turner’s voice is rough and the way his hands grip his knees give away how much control he’s using right now.
I take a step closer without even realizing I’m doing it. My man tracks the movement like a predator which causes goosebumps to pop up all over my body. He does something wicked to me, something I never want to stop, with just a look.
It’s a delicious feeling, decadent in the best of ways.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I needed a moment to think about things.” I look away from him, unable to handle the weight of his stare. “I think I overreacted. I shouldn’t have come here.” I shrug my shoulders helplessly, feeling more than a little silly about my breakdown earlier. “So, I got a card in the mail; it’s not that big of a deal.”
“Graycie,” there’s a warning in Turner’s voice, but I still can’t bear to look at him.
What if he agrees with me? Maybe he’ll think I thrive off the drama of my past instead of me wanting nothing to do with it. If I could forget, I would in an instant. My scars won’t let me.
Turner stands up slowly and I have to tip my head back slightly to look up into his eyes. The way he dwarfs me should make me want to flinch back from him, but I’ve felt his touch. I’m not afraid, even with how much bigger he is than me.
When his hands come down on my bare shoulders, a shiver works its way up my spine. I’m letting out small, panting breaths while trying to hold myself back. Not that I don’t want him, I do, but I’ve never felt so wanton before and I’m not entirely sure how to act.
My pussy feels so fucking empty without him filling me with his cock.
“Hey,” he murmurs and my gaze snaps up to his. One side of his mouth quirks up and his gray eyes dance with tempered amusement. “Where’d you go just now?”
“Hmm?” I shake my head, trying to clear the lust fog which always seems to descend whenever he’s around. “Oh, nowhere. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure,” he drawls while letting go of one of my shoulders to allow his fingers to glide back and forth along the edge of my towel.
Taunting.
Teasing.
Testing.
He clears his throat and his eyes harden slightly. “You were right to come to me, Angel,” he rasps.
Something in his voice has my hackles rising. “Wh-why do you say that?”
When his eyes find mine again, the intensity there has my breath stalling in my lungs. Something has happened. I don’t need him to say it to know. Dread coils in my gut and even though my mind is screaming at me to run, to hide, my feet keep me rooted in place.
“While you were sleeping, we had church,” he starts to tell me.
My eyebrows furrow with confusion. Church? I don’t exactly picture the men of the Saint’s Outlaws MC as being the type to attend a service.
Turner’s chuckle is a low rumble as he explains with a shrug, “It’s what we call meetings around here.”
“Oh,” I hold the word out with dawning understanding, “that makes a lot more sense.”
“Pretty sure we’d be struck down if we were talking about an actual church service,” Turner has a sheepish look on his face as he rubs the underside of his jaw.
I track the movement and can almost feel the way his stubble roughly rubbed against my skin earlier. Instead of telling him I want to feel it again, I bite my lip and wait. He’s not done with whatever he has to say.
“Ryker called in everyone who was available,” he goes on to explain and I nod absently; I’m half listening and half fantasizing.
Can you really blame me?
Turner Garner is sexy as hell and I’m practically naked. It wouldn’t take anything for him to grip the towel, tug it out of my hands, and let it fall to the floor. My nipples become painfully hard, and I hope the towel hides my body’s reaction to him.
“Whiskey was able to get information on,” he swallows hard before spitting out, “that bastard.” I nod with his words, a little amused because he won’t sayhisname. Not that I blame him. “He thinks he’s a big shot, but he’s not as connected as he’d like people to believe.”
“He always made it sound like he was representing some underground kingpin who could make a body disappear and was vital to the whole operation.” My words don’t sound like a protest, but they are.
Because if Sylvester wasn’t as powerful as he said, as I thought he was, then I could have run a lot sooner. I should have.
