Blood & Bones: Ozzy (Blood Fury MC 9)

She shifted again, grabbing the box of photos and putting it on the nightstand, placing her father’s picture on top.

“They must’ve had a reason to bring it up to me today. Maybe they think I’ll be jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous?” Liz had been a great sex partner for the past two years, but she was no longer in his bed.

She would no longer return to it, either. She’d moved on. She’d found a man worth giving up her sexual freedom.

He had moved on, too.

“I’m not. I haven’t even met her yet.”

Yet. Was she actually considering staying?

“And why would I be jealous of someone you’ve been with in the past?” She shrugged. “What reason would I have to be?”

“Sweetheart, what Liz and I had was great for the time it lasted. But for the short amount of time you’ve been in my bed, I can tell you what’s between us is so much fuckin’ better.”

She blinked. “But… I’m not staying.”

Shit. “Right. You ain’t stayin’. But right now, you’re here, so let’s fuckin’ make the most of it. So, we done talkin’ for now?” For fuck’s sake, say yes.

She gave him a soft smile. Much better than that damn tear rolling down her cheek earlier.

He needed to get her mind off her father, off Liz and onto him.

Same with him.

He needed to forget about her father for now, forget about Liz and concentrate on the woman before him.

He didn’t wait for her answer. Instead, he reached over to the shoebox and flipped that fucking photo over.

The hell if he wanted Ham watching him fuck his daughter.

He needed to make hay while the sun was still shining since he didn’t know when the next storm was coming.

Because when you least expected it, another fucking storm would come rolling in creating havoc.

Guaran-fucking-teed.

Chapter Nineteen

He still hadn’t asked her to stay.

Hadn’t asked her not to go.

In a few days she’d be done with the work she’d been contracted to do for the club. Their month together quickly coming to an end. She didn’t want what they had to possibly go that same route.

However, the more she got to know him in the past month, the more she’d seen the proof of his commitment issues. Especially after meeting Liz last weekend.

Shay could not ignore how Liz’s ol’ man Crash looked at her. He had actually called her Sunny instead of her real name. As if he needed to bask in her sunshine to thrive.

Apparent true love and definitely not temporary.

Shay never had a man look at her like that. Not once.

She wasn’t sure if she ever would.

But the truth was, for her to stay, for her to commit, she would need some kind of commitment from Ozzy, too. After her ex-husband, she needed the assurance of loyalty. Of love.

Of a possible forever.

She didn’t want to invest time into a relationship that ended up one-sided. Been there, done that, had the divorce papers and the buckets of tears to prove it.

She didn’t want to put herself through that emotional turmoil again. She wanted the happily ever after that she’d dreamed about when she was younger and read every romance novel she could get her greedy mitts on. She wanted to avoid the tragic, heart-breaking ending of a Nicholas Sparks’ novel. Of a love lost and nothing remaining but hurt and sadness. Only left with memories.

While the sex with Ozzy was the best she’d ever had—she loved every second of it and also the way he’d expanded her horizons—it wasn’t everything.

They couldn’t base a relationship solely around a physical connection. That was what Shay figured happened between Liz and Ozzy. With them, it had been about the sex more than anything else.

But the sex…

Tonight, unlike other nights, he seemed to be taking his time with her. As if he knew it was soon coming to an end. As if he wanted to make it last, make it count.

His hips glided slowly. His cock eased in and out of her with each gentle, deliberate thrust.

No pounding, no grunting. No rush to bring her to orgasm. No race to the end.

She had already come once when he had his face buried between her thighs. When she climaxed, she gripped the sheets so tightly, she swore she heard them tear.

While she was still weak from the intensity of it, he had slowly prowled up her body until he was settled between her legs where she welcomed him, encouraged him to take her, but again, tonight he took his time.

First, he spent endless minutes kissing her, exploring her mouth, sharing every breath she took. Tasting her, touching her.

Worshiping her.

Both inside and out.

Some sort of switch must have been thrown inside him. The way he was fucking her seemed more like someone reluctant to say goodbye. Someone who would avoid the finality of that word and simply use, “I’ll see you later,” instead. Even if that person knew they’d never see the other one again.