Seychelle didn’t hesitate. “I got a little crazy last night and drank way too much. I’m sorry, everyone, but I think I need to just call it a night and get back home. This has been so fun, though. I’m sorry to cut it short.”

Savage immediately stood, throwing money on the table. “You all stay and finish your coffee. We’ll head back.”

More money was thrown on the table, and Reaper signaled the waiter. “We’re finished. We’ll ride with you.”

His family, surrounding them. Taking his back. Taking her back. Showing Seychelle she wouldn’t be alone living with the monster.

TWELVE

Savage waited until Seychelle had gotten ready for bed. There was something comforting about lying in bed with her. Holding her. And she was brave in that bed. She had the courage to be alone in the dark with him. Now more than ever, she knew what she was facing. Not the details, but that darkness in him that was never going away.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots, making it clear he was staying. She shot him several nervous glances, but she didn’t protest, and so far she hadn’t run screaming from him. He knew she had the kind of courage it would take to be with him. She’d run into the path of a truck when no one else had dared to move, to save his life.

“I had a wonderful time, Savage. I love being on the motorcycle with you.”

“That’s good, baby, because you’re going to be spending quite a bit of time there.” He didn’t look at her as he hung his jacket on the back of the chair.

Seychelle moved past him, leaving a trail behind, that faint fragrance of wild strawberries. He had no idea, when he’d been in her shower and seen her products, how she could smell and taste like that, but she did. He turned to watch her crawl onto the bed from the end of it. She was graceful, on her hands and knees, her lace-covered ass swaying as she moved to the top of the bed.

Immediately, erotic images crowded into his mind. There was no stopping them. His handprints decorating those perfect pale globes. Red stripes across them, running from the top of the curve to her thighs. A plug pushed deep between those cheeks, preparing her for him. A vibe. Gingerroot carved in the shape of a thick penis. His cock responded all on its own, a fucking miracle when it never had before, because men residing in hell didn’t get erections.

She settled with her back to the headboard, legs stretched out in that way she had. He turned off the lights but left the window shade open so the reflection of the moonlight spilling down onto the wide ocean surface would light the room enough for him to read her. The revolving base beneath the intertwined rose sculpture cast colors up on the ceiling. He stripped, leaving just his jeans, although they weren’t staying on. He just wanted her to feel safe. He needed her to hear him out.

“We have to get everything worked out tonight, Seychelle.” He sank down onto the bed and reached for her, sliding his hand onto her bare hip. That pale skin. It would show every mark for a long time. His cock stirred restlessly, pulsing like the monster inside of him, already seeing the results of the whip on her skin.

“It’s a lot to take in, Savage.”

“I know it is, baby, but we have to get it done. I want you to agree to be my old lady. My woman. My wife. Not just because I decreed it, saying if you came into the club that was what it meant. You have to make that choice knowing what you’re facing. Knowing what I want and would expect from you. It isn’t a surprise, but you’re going to have to listen to me very carefully, Seychelle. If you agree to be with me, you’re all in. You don’t get to back out when the going gets tough—and it will. I’m letting you know up front, it won’t be easy.” Savage stroked her thigh. “And this life. I’m going to be honest. Once I teach you to like these things, there’s no going back from that.”

She liked sitting with her back to the headboard. He’d been with her enough to know she was comfortable there. Relaxed. He turned onto his side and laid his head on her belly, his arm around her hips. That was his favorite place. For some reason, when he held her like that, his demons calmed and he found a place of peace.

“I’m listening.”

He heard the note in her voice—that small hitch of fear. This time, he knew it was because she wanted to be with him—she wanted to take his offer, and she feared that he was going to say something to make her back out. He shared her fear.

Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net