Page 86 of Life Or Death

LUCIFER

If I never see another fucking doctor’s office or hospital, it will be too soon, but I wasn’t about to let Jess come to her appointment today by herself. Wherever she goes, I go.

I bring her hand to my lips, and I bite at her knuckles.

Three days ago, I rode back from that run like a man possessed. The moment I saw her apartment building, something inside me snapped. I’d been running from what I felt for too long. I pounded on her door like a madman, and when she opened it, I didn’t hesitate. I told her everything—poured my fucking heart and soul out to her.

“Lucifer,” she whispers, her voice bringing me back to the present.

I look at her. “Yeah, baby?”

“You’re biting my hand again.” There’s amusement in her tone, and I can’t help but grin.

“Can’t help it. You taste good.”

The memory of taking her back to the clubhouse floods my mind. We barely made it through the door before I had her pressed against the wall, my mouth on hers, my hands everywhere. I carried her to the bathroom, stripped both of us bare, and watched the water cascade over her skin as we showered together. Then I bent her over, her hands braced against the tile, and fucked her until her legs gave out and she couldn’t stand anymore.

It was the homecoming dreams are made of but that was just the beginning.

I carried her naked down the hallway to my room, not giving a damn who might see us. Then I dropped her on my bed and took her again, both of us too far gone to care about the open door and the possibility that someone might walk by and see us fucking.

Now, I’m more careful. I make sure to lock the door.

I pull her hand away from my lips and lean closer, my hand sliding up the inside of her thigh and her breath hitches.

“Lucifer,” she pants, a warning in her voice. “The doctor . . . he’s going to come in⁠—”

Interrupting her, I hum. “You think he’d mind if I fucked you on this exam table?”

Her pupils dilate slightly, and she moans softly, moving my hand back to her knee. “Behave.”

“You shouldn’t have worn a skirt if you wanted me to behave,” I whisper against her ear.

“I wore a skirt because it’s easier for Dr. Patel to examine my grafts,” she says, but there’s no mistaking the desire radiating from her eyes.

“It’s easier for me to fuck you too,” I reply.

Call me a fucking sadist, but edging her is my favorite.

A knock sounds on the door, and Dr. Patel enters before I can push my luck further. “Mrs. Holland. Mr. Holland. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. My last appointment ran a little over.”

He’s all business as he instructs Jess to put her legs up on the exam table. I watch his hands as he assesses the grafts, my jaw tightening when he touches her skin, even though I know it’s necessary.

“Everything looks good,” he says, glancing at his iPad. “I’ve reviewed the notes from your therapist. The scar tissue is growing a bit thickly, but it’s not interfering with your range of motion, so I’m not recommending reconstructive surgery at this time. If it becomes more of a cosmetic concern, we can reassess.”

I look at Jess, trying to read her expression. She’s self-conscious about the scars, though she’d never admit it. I’ve seen her trace them when she thinks I’m asleep, and I’ve witnessed the way she sometimes flinches when someone looks too long at her legs. Not to mention all the long skirts and baggy pants.

“What about tattooing over the tissue?” I ask, my gaze sliding from Jess to the doctor. “Would that be an option?”

Dr. Patel nods thoughtfully. “Once the tissue is fully healed, yes. We’d need to wait about six months, but cosmetic tattooing can be very effective for burn scars like these.”

He turns back to Jess. “I’m also clearing you to drive. No restrictions there.”

I shift in my chair. Clearing her to drive is great progress, but I have a more pressing question. One that’s been eating at me since she agreed to be my ol’ lady. “What about riding on my motorcycle? The exhaust pipe gets hot.”

Dr. Patel hesitates. “I’d feel more comfortable if you waited a bit on that. The heat sensitivity is still significant, and accidental contact with the exhaust could cause damage.”

I nod, filing that information away. We finish up the appointment, and soon we’re walking out into the bright afternoon sun.