The ride home was quieter than dinner had been, if that was even possible. Every single inch of space inside that truck felt sexually charged now. Princess sat angled toward the window, mostly because if she looked directly at Butcher again, she might climb into his lap before they made it home. And judging by the death grip he had on the steering wheel, he wasn’t doing much better.
Neither of them spoke for nearly ten minutes, until Butcher finally broke the silence. “You keep looking at me,” he muttered under his breath.
Her head whipped toward him. “I do not,” she lied. She couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off him, but she didn’t want to admit that to him.
Butcher huffed out a rough laugh, letting her know that he didn’t believe her at all. Heat climbed into her cheeks instantly. God. This man certainly knew how to get under herskin. Princess looked away again quickly, trying to regain some control over herself, but failed miserably.
“You know,” she murmured, “for someone who claims to hate people, you kiss surprisingly well.” Butcher nearly swerved off the road. She smiled smugly, knowing that she had hit a nerve. “Did I make you nervous?”
“You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he growled. Her pulse jumped at the low warning in his voice.
“Maybe I like fire,” she insisted. Saying that was a big mistake. Butcher made a rough sound under his breath that went straight between her legs. The truck barely stopped fully in front of the house before he was out of it.
Princess barely made it through the front door before he grabbed her, hard and desperate—like he’d been barely holding himself together the entire drive home. Her back hit the wall softly as Butcher kissed her again, rougher this time, all restraint burned away. Princess melted immediately. God, she wanted this—wanted him. Her hands slid into his hair while he gripped her hips tightly enough to leave bruises—not that she minded. Not when he kissed her like she was something he’d been starving for.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against her mouth again, even now giving her an out. That almost broke her heart a little, because men like Butcher looked dangerous, but he kept handling her carefully anyway.
Princess kissed him instead of answering, and that was all it took. Butcher groaned low in his throat before lifting her effortlessly against him. She laughed breathlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively as he carried her down the hallway toward his bedroom.
“This seems caveman-ish,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Are you complaining?” he asked.
“Nope,” she breathed. His laugh was dark and sinful as he lay her down carefully on the bed like she was something precious despite the hunger burning in his eyes. That contrast nearly ruined her. The rough biker with scarred hands was touching her gently and looking at her like she mattered. Nobody had looked at her that way in years—maybe ever.
She could tell that sex wasn’t going to be soft. It wouldn’t be sweet, but that worked for her because every time Butcher touched her, she felt desperate and needy. They were two lonely people colliding hard enough to forget themselves for a little while. Butcher kissed her like he couldn’t get enough. Like he needed the connection just as badly as she did.
“I need to see you,” she whispered, helping him to tug his T-shirt up over his massive body. He was all muscles and tattoos, and Princess was sure that she wasn’t ever going to get her fill of him.
“I need to see you too, honey,” he growled, practically tearing her red sweater from her body. Within seconds, they were naked, and he had her pressed up against the wall again.
She whimpered when he pressed his cock against her drenched folds. “I want you inside of me,” she breathed.
“We’ll get to that,” he assured. She felt as though they would never get to the good part, but that could be her need talking. It felt like it was consuming her.
“Butcher,” she said. His name sounded like a warning and a plea all at once. He chuckled as he worked one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking it until she knew that she’d wear his mark the next day. Jesus, the man’s mouth was built for sin.
He continued to work his way down her body, and Princess growled out her frustration, causing him to laugh again. This time, he had his mouth pressed against her wet folds, and the vibrations that he caused nearly had her coming right there andthen. She cried out his name, and he seemed to take it as a personal challenge.
She watched as Butcher slid to his knees in front of her, spreading her legs and lifting her right one over his shoulder. She pressed her palms against the wall as though trying to brace herself, but it wasn’t really helping. Princess shamelessly rode his mouth until she felt as though she was falling completely apart. Maybe she was, but Butcher was right there to catch her before she hit the ground.
He lifted her into his arms and cradled her against his chest as he carried her to the bed. “My turn,” he growled, tossing her onto the bed. She smiled up at him, holding her hands out to him. He pulled her to the end of the bed and sank into her body, not giving her time to recover from her orgasm. God, she was so sensitive, and her body felt like it was on fire.
He moaned out her name, and she could feel her core tighten around him. “Fuck,” he shouted.
He pulled completely free from her body and slammed back into her, and she knew that she was about to lose herself again. “Right there,” she begged. He was hitting just the right spot inside of her as she met him thrust for thrust. Butcher pumped in and out of her body, and when she shouted his name again, he quickly followed her over, collapsing on top of her.
“That was—” he breathed.
“Perfect,” she said, curling against his chest beneath the dark quiet of his bedroom while his fingers drifted lazily along her spine. She felt safe with him, and that feeling terrified her more than anything else because safety was temporary.
They lay in the darkness, quietly soaking in each other. She wasn’t sure where she ended, and Butcher began. “You still awake?” Butcher asked quietly.
Princess traced one of the scars on his chest lightly with her fingertip. “Yeah.”
His hand stilled briefly against her back, and she worried about what he was going to say next. “What are you running from?” That was the question she’d known was coming eventually, but she still wasn’t ready to answer it.
Princess closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to lie, and maybe it would have been smarter of her to do so, but somehow lying to Butcher suddenly felt impossible. Maybe because he’d given her pieces of himself already, or maybe because he was looking at her now like he genuinely wanted the truth. She knew that he’d never use it against her. He just seemed to want to understand her better.
