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Until I feel something.
Warm hands cup the sides of my neck. They flex and show me that they’re there. But I can’t see who they belong to, except my body knows exactly who—Lance. Lips brush against mine, they press gently, and then I feel something warm and wet slide across my bottom lip.
My breath comes out in an exhale, and that mouth lifts before I hear a soft, gentle, deep voice, and it’s as if that voice is chanting.
“Buttercup, come on back to me, baby. You need to calm down. It’s just you and me now, babe. Just us. Nobody else is here. Nobody else is ever going to touch you again. It’s just us, Reese. Come on back home.”
Blinking, I let out my breath, my eyes slowly opening before they connect with his. His hands are still wrapped around the side of my throat, his eyes on me, and he slowly starts to softly smile.
“Where’d ya go, Reese?” he asks, keeping his tone even.
“I got scared,” I admit, my voice hoarse.
“About?”
I think about his question and how I want to answer it. I know why I got scared… no,terrified. I know the idea of him leaving me anywhere caused my heart to race, my vision to blur and eventually black out, and my throat to feel as if it were closing.
“Being alone,” I confess.
His eyes widen, but he doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he clears his throat, and one of his hands slides down before he places his palm against my chest. I feel his warmth and wish he could touch me always.
“You wanna hold off on shit for a few weeks?” he asks.
“Forever,” I whisper.
Lance shakes his head, standing as his hands fall from me. I hate the fact he’s not touching me and that I feel as if I need his touch. Not just want it but need it. I need him, and I don’t think I’ve ever needed anything quite this much in my life.
I’ve always tried to be as independent as possible, trying to take control of my own life for years and failing epically. I don’t want to be that way anymore. I actually enjoy it when he takes care of me. Buying my salon, this house, protecting me… it’s been like something out of a romance novel, and I want more.
“You can’t do that, buttercup. You love having your place. I’m good with that. You need to do what you love.”
He’s right. I do love hair. I love creating things and making people feel beautiful. “I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper.
“You’re never alone,” he says. “I’m always seconds away at any given moment. And if I’m not, someone else from the club is.”
Shaking my head a couple of times, I clear my throat. “It has nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that imagining not being able to have you in my sight causes me to panic. I do not want to be anywhere where you aren’t.”
He slowly and sexily grins and holds out his palm for me. I slip my hand in his, and he gently tugs me into a standing position. His fingers grip my hips as he pulls me a little closer, my belly touching his hard, muscular one as I tilt my head backward and my eyes find his.
“Give it time, Reese. All this shit happened today. You won’t feel that way in a few weeks, swear to fuck. You need to be around me, you’ll get that for as long as you need it.”
“Thank you,” I breathe. “Thank you.”
AGONY
Even though all I wanted to do was fuck her until she was screaming my name and couldn’t breathe, I decided against it after what I’m assuming she experienced was a panic attack. Lying beside her, I look over and watch her as she sleeps.
Fuck me, I could have lost her forever. I almost did. Her dark hair is splayed out on her pillow, her pink lips pressed together and her hands beneath her cheek as she rests on her side. Her belly peeks out from the covers, and I can’t resist touching it.
The sweetest sound escapes her lips as she lets out a sigh. At the same time, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I reach for it, throw my legs over the side of the bed, and slowly stand before I swiftly walk out of the room and move through the house, sliding my thumb across the screen to answer.
“You two all good?” a voice murmurs on the other end of the phone.
“Duke, what the fuck?” I ask.
He chuckles, but more out of being uncomfortable rather than humor. “I think I fucked up,” he rasps.
He sounds like he’s fucking sick or hurt. My bets are that he’s hurt, possibly by the Hell’s Souls because it was way too fucking easy for him to just walk away. I knew it wouldn’t be happening like that. There was more to that story, and I think I’m getting themoreright fucking now.
