Keeping Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 2)

“Luke…”

“She will have learned from you and so will any other children we have.”

“You want kids with me?” she asks.

“I want everything with you, baby.”

“For a man who has a reputation as someone who doesn’t talk, Luke, you sure know how to make a woman’s knees grow weak.

“Just being honest, baby.”

She nods, and a lone tear slides from the corner of her eyes. I find myself catching it by kissing the salty droplet.

When I pull away, her over-bright eyes are shining like diamonds and I feel her body trembling in my arms.

“I love you, Luke.”

“Show me,” I tell her, kissing her, because I need to physically make love to her, bare the emotions I feel without words. I want to prove to her, mind to mind, body to body, flesh to flesh, that she’s loved. Somehow, I know that will mean more in this moment.

I don’t know why I do, but I do just the same. This is how the two of us work together and I’m damn grateful.42Grunt“I don’t have anything against you…”

Whenever someone starts off a sentence like that—especially one of the first sentences they’ve directed at you—you can pretty much translate that to mean they have everything against you. From the look on Jasmine’s father’s face, that’s definitely true right now. We’re out on the back deck of their home. He brought me out here under the pretense of showing me his bike—which was a sweet, classic Indian, but that was neither here nor there. We both knew what the topic of conversation would be. I’m not looking at him. I’m looking through the wide expanse of glass in front of me, which is really three sets of French doors surrounded by large glass panes that look over the Appalachian Mountains. The house is made of hewn logs and is definitely gorgeous, fitting in its surroundings perfectly. That’s not what is holding my attention though. It’s seeing Jasmine sitting on the floor, working a puzzle with Daisy, while Carrie is sitting on a stool at the counter, laughing and talking with them. Jasmine is combing her fingers through Daisy’s hair. She kisses the top of her head and speaks softly to her in a way that I’ve only seen women have the ability to do. I tear my gaze away from my girls to look at Jasmine’s father.

“I’m not giving her up,” I respond, laying my cards on the table. I figure I might as well cut to the chase. I get why he’s not happy his daughter is seeing me, I do. It doesn’t matter. The simple truth is that I don’t give a fuck.

“You have to know, son, I know all about your club. You and I live similar lifestyles and you have a daughter. Can you tell me that you would want your daughter to sign up with a man like you?”

A man like me. If a man in my world is made of grit and determination then I guess that would be me. That grit right now is rubbing my insides raw.

“My first answer would be no,” I tell him honestly.

“Then you can see where I’m coming from.”

“I can, but I also know how I feel about Jasmine and I know that I will bust my ass to keep that light that shines in her eyes.”

“Listen, Grunt,” he says, automatically using the name that shows on my cut—as he has since I walked inside. Which is how it should be, but for some reason it annoys the fuck out of me that he’s trying to act like what he’s saying should be easy for me to understand.

“I also know that I will always protect Jasmine with my fucking life. If my Daisy found a man willing to do that and that man wasn’t a good man, but he was willing to be good enough to make her happy, then I’d stand back.”

Dancer just looks at me, not speaking.

“And that’s what I’m asking you to do here. Stand the fuck back.”

“If I refuse?” Dancer asks, his gaze appraising me.

I let out an annoyed breath. This is going to be hard all the way through. It’s okay, I expected that, but it doesn’t mean I like it.

“It won’t mean shit to me. I’m not giving her up. I’ve come here as a man, not my club, and I came here because I won’t let Jasmine travel unless I have her back. If we’re going to be enemies, then we’ll make arrangements when she wants to visit you. But, Dancer, you need to hear me when I tell you that I’m not letting her go. Not for you, not for any fucking-body. She’s mine and I’m keeping her.”

“Just because you want to keep a woman doesn’t make them yours,” he rumbles, and I immediately shake my head no.