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I walk towards him. He stays in one place, holding himself together, eyeing me from the side, panting like an animal barely restrained from a carnal urge.
I reach for him, dragging his thick defiant arm down so he can’t block me with it. He twitches when I place my hand softly on his chest, his eyes snapping to me, pinning me in place with a warning. I gasp on a breath but stay close to him.
I can be what he needs. “I can handle your evil, Sir.”
His jaw works. “No. I don’t want that. Leave.”
“I can share it with you.”
“Stop.”
“You don’t have to make the tough calls alone anymore.” On my tippytoes now, I lean up and touch his jaw. The muscles beneath pulse angrily, pressing back at my palm, pushing me away. “You are not alone.”
“Stop it,” he growls, staring sideways at me. “I did this. I planned Jimmy’s execution. I ordered Dustin’s. I may not always thrust the knife, but I damn well make the call. I’m— I’m fucking… losing it.” His neck is tight, ridged down the column.
I stay slow and tender, contradictory to his stiff and burning hot. “You’re not alone,Clay.” I use his name, articulate it, make sure he hears me.Clay.
He smiles bitterly, shaking his head. “A leader is always alone, Fawn.”
My name…I try to smile at him because he’s so beautiful and I am so proud of the man he is for his family. He is breathtaking even when he’s breaking down the centre, even as he loses all his classic control. And just like the rose needs the thorns—pretty things need ugly defences. The thorns need the rose to reproduce, to keep existing, to spread their roots and ground them. “We can lead together.”
He closes his eyes on a sigh. “Impossible.”
“Why?” I ask, and his gaze finds mine, settling in deep. “The thorns need the rose too. I can raise your children,” I state. “I can love them. I can love you too. And your brothers. I’ll be here for them, and we can heal this family together. Don’t you believe in me, Sir?”
As I stroke upward towards his chiselled jaw, he snatches my wrist. I gasp but refuse to break eye contact with him, even as he bands the small limb.
He glares at me through his lashes, his chin high, his lips a straight cut across his face. “I killed my mother.”
I nod—small. “I know.”
“I drugged her. Suffocated her,” he bites out, provoking. “Que will find her in the morning. Stage everything. Clean this room. It’ll be an overdose. I’ll get away with it. Like all the hundreds of others.Hundredsof deaths.” He squeezes my wrist. “At my hands. And my brothers can never know the truth. This is my evil. Do you understand?Mine.Do you understand what this life is with me, sweet girl?”
My lungs strain. “Mylife.”
He frowns. “You think you can handle that?”
I look at his hand cuffing my wrist. “I can.”
“Don’t be what I need right now,” he says, releasing my wrist as though I burn his palms, scorch through his muscles with my resilience, overpowering his brutal hold. “Not after what I just did—"
“I’m not hurt by that anymore,” I admit, understanding him and the moment, understanding his bite, his need to taunt me with the evil inside him. He was taunting himself.
“That was careless. Selfish—”
“No. It was honest. Real. And you want me to be appalled by it. Shocked. You’re pushing me away even though you would never let me leave. What you don’t realise is… I can handle your evil, Clay.”
Lifting to the tips of my toes again, I place my palms on either side of his neck and kiss him gently. His lips are tight, ready to hiss. But I find a groan in his mouth and when he accepts my tenderness, I fill his clenched kiss with a moan of my own.
I break away from our kiss, leading my lips down his throat. Nervous, never having done this before. His hands come to my hair, gripping me hard, with meaning and acceptance.
With need.
The harsh skin on his jaw chafes my lips in the most amazing, painful, and violent way. It matches his energy, and the way I am willing to suffer it for the taste of him.
“You needed me,” I say against his skin. “You said so yourself. I can be what you need, whenever you need it. I can be the right woman for you, Clay Butcher. I can be your pretty little queen. Let me.”
He pushes me from his neck, ripping my lips away and bracketing my face for his harsh perusal. He stares down at me. “But you'll still be my sweet girl.”
