Page 125 of Full Throttle

“Don’t you want you seeing this. Don’t want this touching you and your light,” I murmured, my voice growing colder with each word. “My fucking lucky charm is about to walk into hell—she’s about to see hell, and I can’t—” I cut myself off, looking toward the open door of the plane. “If something happens to you in there, Clover, I won’t—I can’t…” I released a shuddering breath.

“Cain, look at me,” she ordered softly.

When I looked back to her, those green eyes were shining brighter than I’d ever seen them. “Do you think I want you walking back into hell after the things you’ve already seen?” she whispered. “No, babe, I don’t. I want you as far away from the place as possible.”

My jaw hardened.

She brought her hands up to my face, her touch searing against my skin. “I’d walk through hell with you by my side a thousand times, Cain Donovan, than go another day without you.”

In a flash, my body was against hers, my hand on her throat. I leaned down, brushing my lips against hers, feeling her pants against mine. “Stop saying sweet shit,” I growled.

“You deserve to hear sweet shit,” she whimpered, her hands going to my sides.

My eyes dropped to her lips. “You can’t say shit like that, especially in a place where I can’t bury myself so far inside you that I’ll make you see the goddamn universe,” I growled.

She whimpered my name.

Fuck it.

My lips slammed against hers, my tongue diving in as I drank from her, savoring the feel of her, her tastes, her sounds.

By the time, I wrenched myself away from her, her eyes were hooded, her lips swollen, and I could see her nipples through that damn thermal.

“When we get back, I’m not letting you leave my bed for a fucking week,” I vowed, my voice rough. “Don’t make any fucking plans. You aren’t going out with the girls, to Sullie’s to help out, or to Oasis. The only thing you’re going to be doing is taking your man’s cock any fucking way he gives it to you, that understood?”

She nodded.

“Fucking love you,” I clipped, my voice hard. “You hear me, clover?”

She read me. She understood me. “I hear you,” she rasped.

“Tell your man you love him,” I ordered, my chest heaving against hers.

“I love you, Cain.”

I nodded, stepping back and pulling her into my arms. She laid her head on my shoulder as her hands stroked up and down my back, my arms tight around her, holding her to me for dear fucking life. I tilted my head back, my eyes focusing on the ceiling of the plane as I tried to calm my nerves. Minutes later, she whispered, “We’re going to be okay.”

She was wrong.

We weren’t going to be okay, but I would make damn sure she would be.

Even if that meant dying for my lucky charm.

Joseph Grayson wasn’t a man of many words.

Joseph Grayson wasn’t an average man.

Joseph Grayson was a haunted man.

A broken man.

A deadly man.

The longer I watched him, studied him, the more I came to realize why he bothered me. I leaned over towards Leon, who was staring straight ahead, his hands hanging between his knees. “You said he knows Denver Langston?” I asked.

Lee looked at me and nodded. “He hired him to find Mason.”

“I know that, but how does a fucking cowboy cross paths with a man like Grayson?” I pressed, my voice low.

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