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In the beginning, she figured once she ate the sweet flesh of that forbidden apple, she’d toss the rotten core. However, her hunger had gotten the best of her and she couldn’t stop taking more bites.
Surprisingly, the core also didn’t end up being as rotten as she’d thought. It was only slightly browned and bruised. Even then, she couldn’t toss it. She had the urge to plant the seeds found in that core and grow something better.
This whole thing between them and what was going on with his club seemed hopeless. Totally damn hopeless. And that made her heart hurt. It also made her worry for him.
“What are we going to do, Rook?” She knew he didn’t have the answer, either, but she wished like hell he did.
He cupped both of her breasts and squeezed them gently, his thumbs lightly brushing over the tips. “Wish I fuckin’ knew,” he murmured. He released a loud, resigned sigh. “Shouldn’t have come here tonight.”
That was the hard truth. “No, you shouldn’t have. And I should’ve removed that key.”
“Yeah.”
“But you did and I didn’t. And here we are.”
“Here we fuckin’ are,” he echoed softly.
Here they were, again, unsure what to do. Not only with what was within their bubble but with everything outside of it, too.
“Gonna tell you somethin’… Was close to killin’ that motherfucker when he put his hands on you.”
Last night, she had seen it in his eyes when it happened. It was one reason she had restrained herself. She stayed as calm as possible to keep him calm. The situation would have become way worse if he had lost his shit.
“I was fine. I was just waiting for the right moment to grab my backup weapon.”
“Glad you didn’t.”
She was glad she didn’t have to. Even without Rook getting involved, going against Scar would’ve ended up being a fight for her life. The prospect was more than twice her size and acted like he had nothing to lose. That attitude alone made someone more dangerous. And she knew exactly what his teardrop tattoo meant. Quite simply, nothing good. “He’s trouble.”
“Yeah. But Trip’s big into givin’ second chances.”
“It probably isn’t his second. It probably isn’t even his twentieth. I hope you don’t regret bringing him into your club. Cancer tends to spread quickly if it’s not caught early and dealt with aggressively.”
“I hear you, darlin’. He’s got the next year to prove himself.”
“If he doesn’t get thrown back in prison first.”
“That, too. If he becomes a headache, we’ll deal with him but, right now, we need him.”
They were circling back to the Shirley business. And that gave her heartburn.
“Why are the Shirleys bringing in men, Rook? Can you tell me that much?”
“Probably just bringin’ in fresh blood since everyone up there’s related.”
It was more than that. They brought in two van loads. They were upping their numbers for whatever was going on between them and the club. They were preparing for something.
She dropped her head low enough so her lips were right above his. She whispered, “Don’t get yourself killed,” against them.
“Would you miss me?” he whispered back. “Or just my dick.”
“Unfortunately, I need you attached to that dick since it won’t function properly without you.”
He threw his head back and laughed, then she squealed as he used all of his weight to spin her over and pin her to the bed. “You’re right. I’m attached to this dick. So, to get it, you get me. Sorry, darlin’.”
“A damn hardship,” she teased.
“Somethin’s hard,” he murmured, thrusting his hips enough to push his erection along her inner thigh.
“You always seem to rise to the occasion.”
“That I do, darlin’.”
She assumed he’d be landing in her bed for the next four nights.
She couldn’t argue that, even though that niggling voice at the back of her head said she should. She ignored it since she actually looked forward to spending that time with him.
Because of that, the key would remain right where it was currently and so would Cujo’s pillow.
Rook crushed his mouth to hers, twisting one of her nipples, and edged the crown of his cock closer to its final destination. The slick, hot, mind-blowing fist of Jet’s pussy.
His pussy. For the time he was with her, it was his. No one else’s. Not even hers. His.
He couldn’t get enough of it.
He couldn’t get enough of her.
Was that a fucking problem? Fuck yeah.
Was that a problem he’d solve tonight when she was waiting and willing? Fuck no.
Was it a problem he’d solve in the next four nights during her stretch of days off? Not unless he was crazy.
He needed to solve the problem, he just wasn’t ready to do it yet. He thought he was two weeks ago when he walked out her door. But seeing another man’s hands on her, then seeing her tonight, made him realize he couldn’t quit her just yet.
