Savage Burn (Savage Trilogy 2)

Her need to defend me takes me right back where I was in that coffee bar when she asked about my scar. When I told her there were parts of me that she didn’t want to know. My hands come down on her waist. “I told you, baby, don’t turn me into a hero that I’m not. That’s bad for us.” I try to back her up.

She presses her leg to mine and gives my chest a hard shove. “You’re muddy and wet. Undress. Here. Now.”

CHAPTER THREE

Candace

I don’t want to hear what is bad for us right now.

I don’t want to think about Gabriel.

I don’t want to think about my father being in danger.

Or Tag being a killer. Rick either, for that matter.

Which is why I can’t get him naked fast enough. “Undress,” I repeat.

He arches a brow at my command. “You want me to undress here, in the garage, right now?”

“That’s right,” I say, shrugging out of my rain-drenched jacket and tossing it to the ground. “Right here, right now.” I lower my voice. “You’re dirty, Rick Savage. You know how I feel about you being dirty.”

He tosses his bag in the doorway, beside me, and I kick it into the kitchen, retaining my gatekeeper position. Rick rewards my stubbornness. He shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it onto the ground next to mine. “Better when I’m naked,” he says, the edge and intensity of his mood roughening his voice and my nerve endings.

No, I think. Better when he’s here. Better when he’s not gone. I shove away those painful thoughts and focus on the moment, just the moment, and with good reason. I can feel the clawing emotion circling and rising inside of me, the fear, the anger, the emotions that jumble up in my mind and ball in my chest. I need an escape before I explode. I need something that feels real and familiar and right, and that’s me naked with this man. And that’s him too busy being naked with me to tell me why he’s bad for me.

I grab my sneakers and start pulling them off. He does the same with his boots and he never takes his eyes off of me. Nor do I him. How can I? His wet, muddy T-shirt is clinging to rock hard muscle. I didn’t think it was possible for Rick Savage to get hotter than he was when I met him, but age and experience have honed his body and chiseled his face into that of an experienced man. A tormented man and that’s the part of him that was present in the car when he turned away from me. That’s the part of him that warned me not to make him a hero. That the part of him that will decide to walk away again.

He reaches for the hem of his tee and pulls it over his head, tossing it aside. My gaze rakes over his rippling abs, but settling on the ink on his shoulder, the green beret tattoo: a skull in a Beret hat. A tattoo a man proud to serve his country chooses, not the killer he professes himself to be. He doesn’t seem to know how much every part of him turns me on.

I think he needs to know.

And I’m going to enjoy showing him.

I pull my sweater over my head and throw it aside, wasting no time with what comes next. I unhook my red bra, the one I wore because he loves me in red. I dangle it on a finger between us for a moment before I toss it aside. His eyes heat, the air between us combustible.

He steps toward me. I point at him. “Pants. They are literally covered in mud.”

His lips curve. His eyes burn hot and he reaches for his waistband, and good grief, just knowing he’s about to be gloriously naked, has my nipples puckering. He notices too, his gaze raking over them, a hot caress that all but undoes me. His pants slide down his powerful thighs, his erection thick beneath his snug body-hugging boxers. I turn away from him and walk into the house.

I’ve barely made it past the cabinets to my right when he’s catching my arm and pulling me around to him. One of his hands cups my jean-clad backside and molds my hips to his hips, the thick ridge of his erection, pressing to my belly. “You’re teasing me,” he says, his hands cupping my breast. “It’s only right that I tease you, too.” His fingers flicker over my nipples.

I exhale a shaky breath, heat rushing through my body, settling low in my belly. He leans in, his breath warm on my cheek.

“Rick—”

“I need to kiss you,” he murmurs, but when he would press his mouth to my mouth, I pull back. “Your lip.”