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Lifting one hand to his chiseled chest, I grip his t-shirt, pulling him further into the kiss. Bracing his hand against the slick surface of the tub next to my head, he leans in, hungrily consuming my lips. I tug harder, needing to feel his body against mine and his hand slips.
Water sloshes everywhere as he falls into the tub.
“Spence!” he exclaims, laughing against my lips.
Pulling away, I lean my back against the wall of the tub and bite on my lower lip to keep from laughing. He’s drenched from head to toe, still wearing his wrinkled, bloody suit from this evening. Sitting up, he grabs my ankle, yanking me into his lap, splashing more water onto the tile floor.
“You know, it’s not fair. I’m naked and here you are…wearing all these clothes,” I run my hand across his chest, fisting the soaked fabric of his shirt.
Letting out a low groan, he presses his forehead against mine, “As much as I want to fucking wreck you right now… we have to go baby.”
“Go where?”
“I’m concerned the house could be compromised, so I’m taking you to the penthouse.”
“Penthouse?”
He nods, “Yeah, it was my dad’s, I never stay there and it’s under a fake name, so it should be safe.”
“Ok,” she nods. “But Travis?”
“Yeah baby?”
“I want my own gun.”
“What?” he starts laughing and chokes on his words.
“I’m serious. You can’t always be with me every fucking minute. I need to be able to protect myself too.”
His gaze wanders as he rubs his chin, scrunching his brow as though he’s deep in thought.
He’s actually thinking about this.
After tonight, I know better. I trust him implicitly, but I do have a point. It’s impossible for him to always be there. I have to be able to hold my own, especially if he never plans on leaving the life he lives. The danger goes beyond just Grant Maddox and the Syndicate.
“Ok,” he says. Pushing to his feet.
“Wait. Really?” I exclaim as I stand quickly, nearly slipping on the way up.
“You have a point, and it’s not like I don’t have guns to spare. But I’m going to need you to learn to use it right. Got it?”
I nod excitedly as he grabs a fresh towel from the towel rack, wraps it around me and presses his lips gently to the fresh wound on my forehead.
“Get dressed ok? We need to leave soon. Riot will come back and pick some things up for us and bring them to the penthouse.”
“So… you never stay here, huh?” I ask, running my hands along the back of the huge, plush, black leather couch.
“I used to here and there, but not anymore,” he murmurs as he kicks the door shut and steps up behind me, pressing kisses to the crook of my neck.
“Isn’t Riot going to be here soon?” I breathe heavily, my skin quivering beneath his touch.
Running his fingers from my shoulders, down both arms slowly, he bites down, digging his teeth into my skin. “He can wait. I told you… I want to fucking wreck you red.”
Spinning around, I slide my hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt, shoving it up as he reaches over his head and yanks it off, “Then fucking wreck me daddy.”
“Say it again,” he hisses, as he walks me backward into the bedroom, peeling the rest of his clothing off, one item at a time.
“Wreck me daddy,” I smirk. I’m egging him on and I know it. I love it. I’m playing with fire and fuck, I want him to burn me alive.
