I feel like I can’t speak. For whatever reason, there’s a huge knot in my throat. Then again, I guess it’s not whatever reason. It’s about 6’4, lean, and staring directly at me—that’s the reason for the emotion.
But I’m an expert at faking strength. It’s just been a while since I felt weak enough to have to fake it.
“Will do,” I say to Smitty, hanging up before he can ask me questions.
As soon as I put my phone down, Axle asks, “Lathaniel?”
“My father’s name,” I answer on autopilot. “It’s my safe word to Smitty that lets him know I’m not being held at gunpoint or something. Precautions and all that. It’s required.”
His glaze flicks over my face, then his eyes meet mine again. “And the word that tells him you’re at gunpoint?”
I smile weakly. “Blackbird. It’s the only word I could squeeze in that wouldn’t be an obvious panic word. When I speak over the phone, I refer to my family as Bluebird instead of Blackbird. Again, protocol.”
He nods, both of us talking about anything but the giant elephant in the room.
“If you’ll send in more vehicles, we’ll redo all of the interior work again. Obviously free of charge,” he says so matter-of-factly.
Things between us have been an array of things, but this is the first time it’s been uncomfortable.
Deciding not to slip into formal bullshit chitchat, I pull up my GPS, looking at everything that’s around, and isolate one place that will work. Then I send Smitty the coordinates of the extraction point—that is pretty much in the middle of the desert.
He texts back immediately.
SMITTY: Five hours. Be ready.
“What does it say?” Axle asks, his voice a little raw.
“They’ll be picking me up in five hours. I should probably conference in the other three Families and let them know I’m coming home. Then, if you don’t mind, someone will have to give me a ride.”
Standing, I put my phone back in the pocket of my shorts, and I move toward the bedroom, batting away a few fallen tears. As soon as I’m inside, I lean against the door, trying my damnedest to hold myself together.
But the tears keep coming.
My chest feels like a building is pressing down on it.
Every swallow is painful.
Every breath is hard to catch.
Trying to pull myself together, I move to the bathroom sink and start splashing water on my face and the back of my neck.
I can see him again. It’s not like this has to be it. Our individual wars will be over eventually. Calling is perfectly acceptable, even if Axle doesn’t like talking on the phone very much.
There’s also video chat, right? I mean, it’s not asking too much for a criminal biker who is currently dodging constant, life-threatening attacks to find time to video chat.
After toweling off my face, I look back at the mirror, and jump a little, because Axle is also in the mirror with me.
Confused, I turn around, and almost immediately, his hands are in my hair, and his lips are on mine, kissing me like it’s paramount above all else. Kissing me like it’s the last time.
Kissing me like it’s goodbye.
Damn it. More tears.
So, this is it?
He lifts me, and I wrap my arms around his neck while winding my legs around his waist, and he carries me out of the bathroom, devouring me the entire time.
The second he has me on the bed, I help him push my shorts off, then tear my shirt over my head. He leans back, stripping his shirt off, then comes back down to me.
With one hand, he undoes my bra, and everything slows down.
“Five hours,” he says roughly.
Since my words are completely pointless, I nod, feeling a few more tears slip out with the motion.
Tossing my bra to the side, he leans down, and my back arches as his mouth closes over a nipple, sucking it. Whimpers…moans…I give him all the sounds, not holding anything back.
My fingers twist and grip his head, pushing him lower. Smart guy that he is, he takes the hint, pushing my panties down and not wasting time. His mouth fastens over my clit, and gibberish bursts out of me when I try to tell him how good it feels.
I swear he’s grinning. Not sure I’ve ever had anyone grin when their face was right there.
The smile fades, and he starts holding my hips down when I try to move. It feels too good. And he makes me take it all.
It feels like minutes and hours in different ways, until I’m suddenly crying out his name.
He tears his mouth away, but his lips find mine before I can even catch my breath, and he thrusts in. I swallow his groan, feeling his chest vibrate against mine. When he breaks the kiss, he pulls back just enough to look into my eyes, his hips moving at an agonizingly languid pace.