Page 59 of Savage Surrender

“Freddie.” His thumb moves once over her knuckles, and she brings his hand to her mouth instead, pressing a kiss to the center of his palm. Freddie holds his breath.

“That sounds perfect,” she says.

I have the urge to mock him, because I’m a tad jealous he always gets the ooey-gooey omega side of her easily. And maybe I would if we weren’t standing in a house I bought for the same girl we’ve been obsessed with for forever, but never even managed to ask on a date.

We are definitely ass backwards.

Bianca lets him go slowly, blinking hard before she turns to the only person who has been damn near silent since we entered the house. Weller stands near the end of the island with his attention divided between her and us.

“And what about you, Mr. Serious?” she asks.

Weller’s gaze settles fully on her face and locks in. “It’s not a competition.”

“You’re losing anyway,” I tell him.

His eyes cut to mine, promising a later correction, but Bianca steps between us. Her bare feet stop inches from his shoes, and she lays one hand flat against the center of his chest.

She moves closer until there is no room between their bodies.

“Were you going to dress me up and take me to dinner somewhere expensive?” she asks. “Show me off a little?”

His hand closes around her wrist, not to remove it. He holds her there while the beat beneath her palm inevitably gets faster.

“Bianca.”

The warning only makes her eyes brighten. “Would you have let me misbehave until I got you all worked up, then taken me home and spanked my ass until you felt better?”

Owen inhales sharply, and every filthy possibility in my head rearranges itself around the image of Bianca’s bare ass across Weller’s lap as she falls apart.

Fuck.

She moves her fingers to the top button, releasing them one at a time until she can get her hand inside his shirt far enough to press them against the spot where she left her bite mark. “Then I bet you would’ve fucked me, tucked me into bed next to you while you read those poetry books you used to carry around everywhere, and felt content that you had dominated me into submission for the evening.”

Weller’s fingers close around her hips, and I expect him to kiss her. Instead, he lowers his body in one smooth movement until both knees meet the wood floor, and his face presses into the soft plane of her stomach.

Nobody utters a damn word.

I have watched Weller sit in a cage as if the concrete belonged to him. I’ve seen him bleeding, drugged, shaking hard enough that he could barely use his hands, and he still found a way to hold himself higher than the men trying to own us.

Bianca looks as shocked as the rest of us. Her fingers hover above his head before settling carefully into his dark hair, and Weller’s eyes close when her fingers start moving.

And fuck if it doesn’t make me jealous.

“I would’ve given you anything you wanted,” he says against her stomach, jolting me out of the vivid fantasies playing in my head. “I will give you anything you want, but maybe not always when you want it.”

Her throat moves. “Well⁠—”

“I was planning to pay for any schooling you wanted that went beyond the scholarships. One house or ten - in any country you fancied. Financially, there was no limit.” His arms tighten, bringing her closer until the sheer cover-up gathers beneath his cheek.

“That’s... too much.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Of course he says it like that, still on his knees with his face against her and the audacity to sound as if he just offered to cover dinner. Bianca doesn’t argue. Her hand moves through his hair again, slower now, and his breath catches against her.

When he finally looks up, there is nothing soft about his expression. Bianca’s lips part as his thumbs press into the dips beside her hips.

“Would I enjoy disciplining you?” he asks, and I’m not sure if he’s asking her or himself.