Page 48 of Heartbeats & Highways

“Eyes on me,” he commanded.

My eyes flipped open, and I stared into Savage’s soul. His thrusts became ruthless, dominating. I was so primed, so eager, my body a slave to his.

I arched up, meeting him demand for demand.

“Come with me, Evie,” he growled.

I clenched around him as my second orgasm tore through me. Wave after wave of rapture pulsed through my body and then Savage gripped my hip and slammed into me.

Savage roared like an animal, clasping me to him before stilling. He collapsed on top of me, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

I could barely breathe, but I didn’t care. I never wanted him to leave.

“Evie?”

“Hmm?”

“My leg is cramping.”

I giggled.

He lifted himself up and stared down at me, an unburdened smile spreading across his face. He kissed my forehead, the tip of my nose, and then my lips.

“Give me a moment to recover,” he whispered against my mouth. “And then we’re doing that again.”

Chapter 13

My night was filledwith passion.

Savage had only the one condom, but I found there were so many other ways to share pleasure.

He opened my eyes to a world I knew nothing about. He cared more about my satisfaction than his and he spent hours discovering what I liked.

In between bouts of love making, we showered, we cooked, we built intimacy with tender touches and lingering looks.

It was three o’clock in the morning and we were in bed, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow. I studied his tattoos and ran my fingers along his ink.

“How did you get the name Savage? Is it a nickname?”

He shook his head. “It’s a road name. A name my brothers gave me. My real name is Cooper. Cooper Boddington.”

“You donotlook like a Cooper,” I said with a smile. “Savage suits you.”

“Thanks, I think.” He looked thoughtful. Savage raised his hand and flipped it over; he pointed to a tattoo at the base of his thumb.

“I’ve known Duke and Willa since we were kids,” he began. “Duke and I were in the foster system, and Willa may as well have been. Her mother wasn’t around a lot . . . Anyway, the three of us have been thick as thieves since we were children. We all have the same tattoo, a three-leaf clover. Two leaves tattered and torn, and one perfect one. The perfect one is Willa.”

I took his hand and brought it closer so I could see his tattoo better. I traced a finger across it. “It’s not faded. Don’t these things fade with age?”

“I recently got it touched up.” His hand curled around mine. “My childhood was bad, Evie. Really bad. And the club . . . they gave me a place to channel the rage that I’d been carrying around inside of me since I was young. I’ll tell you more in time. But I gotta give it to you in pieces.”

“There’s a lot to it, isn’t there?”

“Yeah.”

“So the three of you grew up here?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at me. “What about you? You said you grew up on a farm.”

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