Page 33 of Pain

And taking all of that into consideration...

Well, I guessed asking her to come to my bedroom wasn’t too out of line. Everyone else was going to notice the chemistry between us at some point, and like I said, I had no intention of letting her go. I wasn’t going to shove her out of the club or avoid her.

I damn sure wasn’t going to let anyone else touch her.

And something told me that she already knew all of that. Probably wouldn’t have been at all surprised to hear my thoughts on the matter. I could feel her fingers twitching in my hand, feel the heat of her seeping into my skin.

She hadn’t hesitated to come with me.

Because she was just as aware of this thing growing between us. I was willing to bet on it.

Right now, though, I just wanted to sleep. I hadn’t slept much last night, and today had been... trying. Watching Gemini get shot was the stuff of nightmares, and watching Mandy and Saraya struggle to put him back together on the floor of our clubhouse—where his blood still stained the concrete in the entryway—was something I never wanted to repeat.

I wanted to crawl into bed, tuck Saraya up against my body, and close my eyes, knowing that she was safe and in my arms and would be there when I woke up.

I didn’t want to have to think about the way I’d seen some of my guys looking at her. I damn sure didn’t want to think about what I was going to have to do to them if they laid one single finger on her smooth skin.

Smooth skin. Smooth, soft skin. Skin that had been pressed against mine last night, driving me crazy.

I growled and shook my head, putting the thought aside until I was alert enough to figure out it what it meant, and looked down at the tiny girl by my side.

“I need a shower and food,” I told her roughly. “In that order.”

She shot me a flirty smile. “You mean not at the same time? Because...”

I growled again, the growl flirtier this time, and swatted her butt. “Food, woman.”

To my surprise, she brought her hands up and wiggled her fingers at me, looking at me like I was some sort of idiot. “Excuse me, I’m the one who was wrist-deep in the blood of your comrade. Pretty sure I deserve a shower, too.”

I frowned at that—not because she was wrong, but because...

“I only have one shower in here,” I noted.

And that created a problem. Because I’d just wanted to take a shower, eat, and then sleep, but the thought of her in my shower, naked and glistening, the water running over her curves, had all the blood in my body rushing directly for my cock. I arched my back, my balls suddenly tight with need and my brain unable to focus on anything but the thought of her small body in front of me in the shower. My hands on her ass as she wrapped those arms around me, her hands tangling in my hair and my fingers—

“Then I guess you’ll need to get your own food while I’m having a shower,” she said with a shrug, acting like this was the most obvious choice in the world. Then she cocked a brow at me. “Unless you want me to make you a sandwich that has blood all over it. It doesn’t sound good to me, but...”

Another shrug, which pressed her tits together under her T-shirt and made me even harder.

I turned her around, spanked her on the ass again, and growled, “Make it quick. I can feed myself.”

And then I turned and got out of the room before my body decided to overrule my mind and take me right into the shower after her.

I might think it was fine to bring her into my room, but I wasn’t ready to take it any further than that.

Yet.

***

THE KITCHEN WAS DESERTED, and thank goodness for that, as I was currently sporting a semi-hard cock and skin hot enough to tell me I was flushed with desire.

Damn, it was pathetic. Entirely unexpected, too. I’d had my fair share of women over the years, but it had been a long time since someone had affected me the way Saraya did. A long time since I’d actually wanted a woman for herself, rather than the momentary comfort she could offer.

An even longer time since I’d trusted someone enough to want to spend the entire night with her.

It wasn’t that I had mommy issues or anything. These were more like... trust issues, I supposed. An unwillingness to let anyone get close enough that I’d miss them if they were gone.

The last person I’d allowed that close was Devil, and we all knew how he’d handled the honor of being someone I actually cared about. Before that, it had been my dad, who I’d lost when I was just a kid. Not that it was his fault, of course—he’d been killed in action with the Hell’s Angels—but his sudden absence had still taught me a really important lesson about letting people get too close.