Once Torpedo Ink went on the run with the other clubs and he had to take care of club business the way it looked like it was going to play out, he would need her almost immediately when they returned home—if he could last that long. Oftentimes, because they resided in Diamondback territory, they were required to ride with them on one of their events. They’d all but been ordered to go. It was a fucking mess.
“Bog, baby,” he whispered. “What the fuck am I going to do? I brought you into this, and I can’t give you up.”
Just the thought of losing her was worse than anything he could think of. He hadn’t believed anyone could love a man like him, and yet she lay there in his bed, her bottom sore, but she hadn’t hesitated or held back when he’d made love to her as gently as possible, grateful that just the sight of her bottom was enough to arouse him. He didn’t need to add any additional stripes to her already sore ass.
Seychelle had whispered the words to him, kissing his throat, his neck, then pouring that love into him. He felt it every time she touched him—when she looked at him. He wasn’t giving that up because she was afraid. He just had to figure out a way to help her through this adjustment period and still give her the real man and not some choirboy version.
“I’ll never be that man, angel. I’m a fucking devil, not a choirboy, no matter how much I want to be that for you.” Sometimes he just watched her sleep because she was so beautiful, he had to make certain she was real.
Her laughter was muffled by the pillow, a low musical raining of golden notes that teased at his skin, feathering over his nerve endings until little electrical pulses beat in time to the music she created.
“Are you having delusions, honey, or did some misguided soul, one of your many admirers, actually tell you that you were a choirboy? I can rid you of that misconception right now.” Her little giggle came again, along with those notes spilling over his body. He actually saw her laughter in golden notes. He saw her music that way as well. When he was a child, he’d been able to see people’s voices in colorful notes drifting around them, but that had been wiped out abruptly when all joy had been stomped out of him.
Seychelle turned her head toward him, her thick braid moving across the pillow as she looked over her shoulder at him. Light came through the open window. She refused to close the damn thing, no matter what he said about security. She liked it open, and he liked the way the moonlight managed to shine perfectly on her.
Laughter was in her eyes, that totally relaxed look she got on her face whenever they were here in her home—her little cottage by the sea she loved so much. He had tried to recreate a space on the bed in his master bedroom just like hers, but he’d failed. She still wasn’t as relaxed, all tension gone, ready to tease him and play like they had for months before they made their relationship official, not in his master bedroom.
In retaliation, he nipped her hip and then soothed the sting with his tongue. “I’ve been a fucking choirboy for an entire day.” That laughter was killing him. He loved the sound of it.
“You can’t say choirboy and fuck in the same sentence and be a choirboy.”
She sounded all prim and schoolmarmy, which made him smile. His first reaction was to roll her over so she was sprawled over the top of him and he had access to her bottom. That was his usual response when she teased him like this, but he didn’t want any bruising, not when he’d made up his mind to ease up and give her a few days to adjust. He would always be a controlling bastard, wanting everything his way, and maybe taking one thing at a time was the best way to go.
“Babe, I told you I was going to hell. Might as well do anything I want. And that’s mild in comparison to all the things I think about saying and doing.”
Her laughter was contagious. “You should have seen your face last night when the Red Hat ladies showed up at the bar to hear me sing. All those darling ladies, Zyah’s grandmother leading the way. She’s so cute, by the way. I adore her, and she adores you. Obviously the two of you have a past, and she made it clear last night that you, Destroyer, Maestro and Player are her little darlings.”
“You’re going to get yourself in trouble if you bring that up,” he growled against her pristine skin, settling his teeth against her in warning.