Page 38 of The Outlaw's Savage Revenge

No tan lines, I notice absently. Which means he gets naked. A lot. But that’s not what sends a bolt of lust straight into my core.

I should look away, I know I should. Heck, I should probably fucking run, but my feet are suddenly rooted to the floor and my eyeballs seem to be glued to his cock.

He’s fucking huge. Cut. Veiny—like a shitload of veins. And an impossibly fat crown. My core tightens so hard I gasp.

I thought I’d seen enough models of penises before settling on Bliss Xtra, but I now know there’s room for improvement. A whole lot of room. If Bliss Xtra looked anything like that, I would have found a way to force it past that stubbornly tight channel and fucked my pain into screaming pleasure.

“You have two seconds to stop gawking and tell me what the hell you want,” he growls, and I realize he’s not putting on a show.

He’s getting dressed, fast. He pulls on a pair of thick leather riding pants with more pockets than I can count, the material clinging to his thighs like a second skin. A tight black T-shirt follows, and then he throws on some kind of tactical gear over it. The transformation from naked god to armed warrior happens in seconds.

Where was I? Oh yeah, not knowing who to trust.“You were right, Rocky. I’m in danger. Dels acted the part, but I saw right through her—”

He freezes. “You spoke to Delilah?”

“How else would I know you were telling the truth if I didn’t confront her?” I say defensively, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Tell me something, did you also have a nice chat with Clemenza?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I did.” I lift my chin in defiance.

He mutters, shaking his head. “Great. I blow weeks of work for you. And do you show some gratitude and do exactly as you’re told? Of course not.”

His high-handedness sends a flare of irritation through me. “Well, Clark fucking Kent, I’m sorry if I’m not your ideal damsel-in-distress! Some of us like to engage our brain even while being rescued.”

At his glower, I take a calming breath. I shouldn’t irritate the guy seeing as l need his help. “In any case. You were right. Thank you for what you did last night.”

He stills for a few moments, as if debating his response, then simply grunts.

So much for the olive branch. Undaunted by his grouchiness, I continue. “It’s just that you might only have delayed the inevitable. They’re still after me. Can you help me?”

He freezes and his eyes narrow. “Help you what?”

“Rocky, I’m begging here.” Something like heat flashes in his eyes but it’s gone in an instant. “Clemenza looked into my eyes and practically told me I was toast. And my Papa won’t listen to me. And somehow I just don’t think I’ll make a very good sex slave.”

My attempt at humor sounds hollow, overshadowed by the sob I’m desperately trying to hold back.

For the first time, there’s a softness in his green eyes as he smirks. “I’ll have to agree with you on that last point.” Then he shoulders his backpack, grabs the trash bag, and catches my hand. “Let’s go, princess.”

Thewarmth of his hand seeps into mine, sending an involuntary shiver up my arm before I regain my senses and try to wrench free of his iron grip.

“Hey, hold up! Go where?” I demand as he pulls me toward the door.

“If you want my help,” he retorts, not slowing down, “you’ll have to trust me.”

If Rocky wasn’t pulling me I might have doubled up with laughter. Trust him? Like I trusted Reese. Like I trusted Delilah. And Clemenza. And Papa.

As we reach the hallway, I dig in my heels. “Well, Tarzan, if you want to earn that trust, you might want to start by doing more explaining and less dragging.”

He instantly drops my hand like it’s on fire. “Fine. You can stay here and roll around in the mud you’ve tracked in.”

The man seems to have a thing for riddles. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve brought your friends along, genius. You’re being followed.”

“How do you know that?”

“Call it a hunch.” He jerks his head toward the stairwell. “Let’s go.”

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