Page 52 of Savage Lust

“All I know is I see someone I love gearing up to do something stupid.” Defiance flared on her pretty face.

“He’s a smart man. I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

I stormed toward the door and turned to Puck, the large, muscled tattoo artist. “You can all get lost. I don’t need babysitters.”

He sighed, leaned back into his chair, and gave a solemn shake of his head. “Sorry, but you’ll have to take that up with Savage.”

I swallowed my scream of frustration and stormed inside. It was petty and childish, but I slammed the door before locking it.

***

I was lost in my own head. Right when I thought everything made sense…Cam happened. He was the storm that came through and blew apart all my carefully put together plans.

I wanted him to touch me again.

I wanted to strangle him.

Maybe both at the same time.

His presence was the sort of thing that could be felt before I heard him. Even now, though he was so quiet the floorboards didn’t even creak, I knew he was in the doorway before I bothered to look up.

“Heard you gave my guys some shit.” More tired irritation than accusation.

“I don’t like being held captive.”

“They gave you space.”

“Yup.” Pettiness meant I didn’t look up, only stared at his worn dark boots and the faded jeans he wore. I stopped before I looked at the rest of him—didn’t trust myself. He’d turned me into a puddle not long ago, and he could do it again. I wasn’t that girl, even if I wanted to be.

“We going to talk about it?” He said it so low, I almost questioned if I heard right.

Cam was giving me an opening. I could shout and rave about how I felt. The problem was, I didn’t know. Part of me wasexcited, part of me terrified, but really, but mostly focused on surviving the next few weeks with some sense of normalcy intact.

“I left your jacket in the kitchen.” I had draped it across one of the kitchen chairs.

“It’s yours. I gave it to you.”

“Why?” This time I did look at him, caught his gaze and held it. Something sizzled between us as I sat on the bed and he leaned against the door jam.

He pushed his fingers through his hair and looked away, dropping his hand to massage the bend of his neck. He still wore the vest, the crisp Vice President patch standing out against the other faded ones. I focused on the bright white threads to keep from getting lost in the way his tongue ran across his bottom lip or how his chest heaved as he released a sigh.

It was like every little thing he did appealed to me.

“It’s a jacket. You didn’t have one.” Clipped. Short. No nonsense. That was the end of that.

But I wasn’t finished. I’d waited all night to clear all this up. “And bringing me to AP’s on your bike?”

This time he caught my gaze. His eyes were icy, the cold running all the way through me. The sort of thing that would scare a normal person. Instead, I sat up on the bed, inching a little closer.

“Notice the way Preacher looks at you? How at the clubhouse, guys circle you like sharks?”

The old guy was a creeper for sure, some of the others too.

“Would you rather be a groupie? Be like Krystal, get passed around for a good time? Because if that’s what you want, I’ll take the jacket back.”

“Oh.” I had hoped…for something more after everything that happened between us. Which was naïve.

“If you’d rather ride with someone else…” He let that thought fall off with a lazy roll of his shoulder.

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