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“Come here,” Razor says, pulling me into his arms as we ride the elevator up to his room. I cuddle against his chest with a grateful sigh. The last few hours have been a blur. All I want to do is shut out the rest of the world for a little while.
Roger is in jail. I don’t think he’ll be a problem when, or if, he gets out. He admitted to stalking and trying to kidnap me. He broke into the bar. Those aren’t minor crimes. Sheriff Armstrong promised to make sure a protection order is put in place, barring him from coming anywhere near me if he is released before he goes to trial.
But I don’t think it’ll take that to keep him away. Once he regained consciousness, he couldn’t even look at Razor without turning a sickly shade of white.
He’s a coward and a bully, and cowards and bullies always go out of their way to avoid people like Razor… the ones who can squash them like bugs. Besides, I don’t think he was ever in love with me in the first place. He didn’t even like me. In his mind, I was a project, someone he could mold into his perfect woman.
Except I’m not his, and I’m not clay to be shaped. I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own choices about my life and what I think, wear, say, and do. No one decides for me except for me. If I decide to let Razor have his way, it’s becauseIdecided. It’s because I trust him to have my best interests at heart, and I chose to momentarily cede that control to him. Roger could never comprehend that.
Razor gets it. He understands me and what I need in a way no one ever has before now. This caveman loves me. Maybe it’s fast and completely crazy, but that’s okay with me. I’ll take being crazy with him over missing a single moment at his side.
“You’re thinking awful hard, pretty baby,” Razor murmurs, brushing his lips across my crown. “I don’t like it.”
“I was thinking about you.”
“Oh. Carry on then.”
I laugh quietly. “Caveman.”
“Damn right.” His chest rumbles against my ear as his hand drifts through my hair, brushing it away from my face. “I may tie you to the bed and keep you there permanently after tonight. I’ve never been so fucking terrified in my life.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, guilt pinging through me as I lift my gaze to his. “I didn’t think running to the stockroom would turn into a crisis.” I run my fingers across the furrow in his brow, smoothing it. “I knew you’d come for me, though.”
He grunts.
“You’ll always come for me, won’t you?”
“You bet your sexy ass I will,” he growls, his eyes dark with promise. “You’re mine, Adalynn. This fire between us won’t ever burn out. You can count on that.”
“I want to go with you.”
“Good.” His thumb runs across my bottom lip. And then he frowns. “Where are we going?”
“When you go back to Los Angeles,” I explain. “Um, I know you haven’t asked me to move with you, and maybe you weren’t planning on asking me to move with you, I don’t know. But I don’t want to be here while you’re there. I don’t want to spend our lives apart, trying to catch flights just to see each other.”
The elevator jolts to a stop.
“Come on,” Razor murmurs, gently tugging me through the doors. He keeps me tucked close to his side as we make our way to his suite. The top floor is deserted at this time of night, the lights in the hall dimmed to a warm glow.
He uses his keycard to get us into the room and then locks the door behind us, shutting out the rest of the world. As soon as he does, I feel a weight drop from my shoulders.
He drops his car keys and room key in a fancy bowl on a table beside the door and then scoops me into his arms, striding toward the primary room in the suite.
I expect him to lay me on the bed, but he doesn’t. Instead, he bypasses it, heading straight for the shower.
“The fucking bar smells like smoke,” he complains, setting me on the vanity to pull my shirt off over my head. “I can’t smell you.” His lips brush my shoulder, his beard tickling my skin. “I fucking hate not being able to smell you.”
“It’s not my favorite thing either.”
He nips my shoulder and then turns to start the shower.
Heat unfurls in my stomach, my nipples turning to hard points when he reaches over his shoulder to yank his shirt off over his head. My scratch marks look like brands all across his broad back. I should probably feel guilty about that, but I like seeing them there, standing in testament to what we did last night.
I watch through a haze of desire as he strips out of his jeans, his eyes locked on my face. His erection juts from his body, hard and proud… aching for attention. He’s always so hard, always so ready. I love knowing this is what I do to him.
“I’m not going back to Los Angeles, Adalynn.”
