Wolf (Evil Dead MC 4)

They stared at each other, both reliving the memory and grinning.

She had to admit, it was a sweet memory. Especially the sex and cuddling that negotiation had led to when she dragged him back to the bedroom.

Wolf twisted toward her, his elbow in the pillow, his head resting in his hand, and with his free hand he lifted Crystal’s, his eyes admiring the new tattoo around her wrist. It had been hidden from him earlier by the long sleeves she’d worn. “Pretty work. He do that?”

Her eyes fell to where he held her hand, and she knew he was referring to Jameson.

“Yes.”

He brought her hand to his mouth to press a soft kiss to her inner wrist. “It hurt to let you go, Crystal.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his eyes.

He went on. “Every time I’d hear someone say your name, I’d feel the sting.”

“I thought maybe you’d forget about me,” she whispered.

“Impossible. Way you make me feel, it’d take a fool to forget.”

“How do I make you feel?”

“Like you’re the only one who gets me. Understands me. Been that way since the beginning. I remember the first time I saw you.” He rubbed his thumb absently over her scar, his eyes staring off into space, lost in the memory. “Damn, baby, you knocked me off my feet.”

She frowned. “When I was down on my knees picking up that broken glass?”

He nodded. “You looked up at me with those big eyes of yours, and I watched them climb my body. When they finally reached my face, and our eyes connected, damn, baby, felt it jolt through me like a fucking static shock.”

She grinned. “I remember looking up at you. You were intimidating as hell. And then you smiled at me.”

“What else could I do? You were so in awe of me,” he teased.

She slugged his arm. “I was not.”

“Were, too.”

“This is your fairytale, tell it how you want.”

“Ain’t no fairytale. Exactly how it happened.”

“In your dreams.”

He dropped her hand to slide his palm onto her belly. “I did think you were a dream.” He leaned over to nip at her earlobe and whisper, “And now that you can ride, you’re a biker’s wet dream.”

“Oh, really?”

“Wasn’t a man standing on that curb when you rode by on that bobbed-tail chopper of yours that didn’t think that exact thought.”

She turned her head to search his eyes. “You like that I can ride? I thought you’d hate it.”

“You looked hot as hell on that bike. Doesn’t mean I still don’t want you on the back of mine. That’s where you belong.”

“Is it?”

He nodded. “If it’s where you want to be.”

She stared at him, the words stalling in her throat.

At her lack of reply, he rolled to his back and pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms. “Let’s get some sleep.”