Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
There it was. His everything. She felt the same way he did. They would find a way. They had things to work through, but the commitment was there, and they’d do it. He closed the drawer softly and crossed the room to the bed. He was tired. He’d showered twice thoroughly at the clubhouse to make certain there was no blood on him. His interrogation clothes had been burned, and he’d returned in fresh clothes. Still, after meeting with Ice and Soleil, he showered again in the master bath and stayed in their bedroom in only his soft drawstring pants.
Each move had been calculated. He had wanted to ensure that Seychelle didn’t catch glimpses into his night’s activities. There could be no hint of the smell of blood. The clothing he wore couldn’t be the clothing he’d had on when he was around Joseph Arnold. He’d created memories at the clubhouse of meeting with other members in the community room and then at breakfast with Ice and Soleil. After taking a shower and donning the soft pants she equated with their games in the bedroom, he had let time go by so the memories wouldn’t be so sharp.
He stood beside the bed, looking at the wealth of thick gold-and-platinum hair spilling everywhere over his pillow and sheets. She was on her belly, and the shape of her under the twisted sheet was enough to make a man sweat. So much woman. All feminine. All his. Love welled up and hit him hard. It always did, because he never expected to have it. Because of that, because he knew what a true gift it was, he intended to guard it carefully.
He slid off the soft drawstring pants, folded them, and put them on the end table before pulling up the covers, straightening them and then sliding his body in beside hers. He claimed his space easily by simply putting his arms around Seychelle and moving her where he wanted her. He curled his body around hers, claiming her the way he had his space.
Her lashes fluttered and she tilted her head back to look at him over her shoulders. A soft smile that got him right in the gut lit her face. “Savage. You’re home. Do you need anything? I can make you something to eat if you’re hungry.” She made the offer without hesitation, clearly having no idea of the time.
She sounded drowsy. Sexy. She looked sexy. His body reacted the way it always did around her, but he was wiped, and he wanted more time to pass before anything intense happened between them. It was just safer. He curved his arm possessively around her waist and pulled her in tight against his body. “I need sleep, babe, but thanks for the offer.” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent. He loved the way she smelled. “A couple of hours from now you can feed me. Go back to sleep, Seychelle.”
“Mmmkay, if you’re sure.” Her blue eyes drifted over his face as if checking to make certain he was all right, and then her head settled on the pillow again, her lashes falling.
His heart settled and he realized his beat had accelerated. Not once when he was interrogating Arnold, questioning him on the disappearance of the other women he’d stalked, had his heart rate risen. Just looking at his woman, just knowing he had fallen so hard, so fast, put that anxious beat in him. It had to stop. It made him too dangerous. Too out of control. He’d tried to give her everything she wanted, even knowing it wasn’t a good idea. He’d promised himself he would give her who he was. He hadn’t been doing that. He was already taking her down such a dark path, he was afraid of losing her.
His club, the problems Torpedo Ink faced, all of it was taking them down so fast, he didn’t have the time to work her in slowly. It had little to do with the sex. He had no doubt he could get her there. Restrictions, constraints, living with the man that was Savage, his role in the club, that was something altogether different, and he knew she would have to be told. She would see it in him. The enforcer. The protector. The killer. She would know. Whether she could live with him or not, he didn’t know. He needed more time with her. He did know he had to give her the real man. All of him. It wasn’t fair to her not to.
“I love you, Seychelle Dubois,” he whispered. “More than anything in the world. I love you.” He waited. Hearing the rush of the ocean waves the way his blood moved in his body. She really was his everything, because without her, he didn’t have much to anchor him when the demons came knocking. He hadn’t known he was capable of real love, not with a woman, a partner, not until Seychelle.