Page 93 of Savage

“He’s not my fucking man,” I shout back, drawing the attention of every patron in the room, which is really only two other people, not including Louis and the redhead. I look around sheepishly and then wrap my arms around myself, turning my attention back to Tank. “Stop fucking smirking, you arsehole, or I’m walking.”

“Try it and see how far you get, Warrior Princess.”

“I’m betting I’d at least get halfway down the street before you caught up to me.”

“You wanna test that theory?” He challenges with a grin, though his gaze warms me head to toe with its intensity. “My money says you’ll make it to the door before I drag you back to the table, put you over my fuckin’ knee and spank your arse ’til it’s red raw.”

I let out a deep, shaking breath and lick my lips.Jesus Christ do I want that. I want it so fucking bad. My nipples turn rock hard, and Tank’s gaze drops to my black singlet. I’m suddenly hot, wet, and hyper aware of his lingering gaze.This man is going to be the death of me.I don’t even care about my stupid oath that I’d withhold sex as long as he withheld my drugs. All I care about right now is how much I want his huge, thick cock inside me right here on this table, in front of everyone.

Louis returns with our coffees and gingerly sets them down in front of us. I don’t look at him because my gaze is firmly fixed on Tank. “Ah … you two know you can’t have sex here, right?”

Tank stares back at me, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a lopsided smile.

“Right?” Louis prompts again.

“Yeah, we got it,” Tank says, picking up his coffee. “We might need that breakfast to go, though.”

“No. We won’t. I’m not fucking you, Tank,” I say, but at this point, I’m not sure I believe it. I don’t want to believe it, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I can’t give him hope that there’s a future for us.

His smile quickly disappears. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Fuckin’ little cock tease,” he mutters under his breath.

“Alrighty then, two orders of chocolate pancakes with burnt maple glazed butter,” the redhead says, placing the plates down in front of us.

“Wow, that looks—”

“Like a heart attack waiting to happen, right?” she says. “I know, but it tastes so good you won’t care if you die from it, trust me.”

I smile up at her, and she thrusts a hand towards me. “Kerri. It’s nice to finally meet one of Tank’s old ladies.”

“Oh, I’m not his old lady.”

“You can’t have oldladies, Kerri. It’s one. Not the plural,” Louis says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “Sorry, she watches too muchSons of Anarchy. Thinks she’s got wicked street cred because she feeds a biker chocolate pancakes once a week.”

“He’s right, Red. You care enough ’bout a woman to make her your old lady, you ain’t lettin’ no other bitch ride on the back of your bike.” Tank looks at me while he says this, those cunning blue eyes of his stirring up too much emotion. Too many promises, too soon, too late. Too … wrong. I can’t let him think that there’s a chance of that happening for us. I can’t be his old lady. I can’t be anyone’s, because it will only wind up getting them killed.

“But Jax has—”

“Alright, Kerri. Let’s not talk to the real biker about fake ones, okay? They tend to not love that so much,” Louis says, as he steers Kerri away from the table. I laugh, and Tank shakes his head as he attacks his pancakes. I glance down at mine, stabbing a piece of the fluffy, rich chocolate pancakes with my fork and stuffing it in my face. I’ve never been big on sugar, I prefer to get my fix elsewhere, but my body has been so starved of anything indulgent these last few days that it only takes one bite and I’m hooked. I dive into the food with abandon.

“Slow down there, Princess, or else these people are going to think I don’t feed you.” Tank says.

“You don’t feed me. Unless you count that rabbit food, you’re always trying to shove down my throat.” I frown and set my fork down, sipping the warm coffee from my mug. I don’t know when last I had coffee that tasted like this.I can’t remember the last time I ate like this.

“Jesus, is it wrong that seeing you devour your breakfast that way is getting me hard?”

I smile through a mouthful of foamy coffee and set it down, wrinkling my nose when Tank reaches across the table to wipe away my latté moustache. “I didn’t know you got off on pigging out.”

“There ain’t nothing wrong with a beautiful woman havin’ a healthy fuckin’ appetite, Ivy. You gotta start feeding your body better.”

“And get fat with chocolate pancakes? No thanks. At least drugs kept the weight off,” I say, and despite the offhanded tone, I feel shame steal over my face. We both know my habit has nothing to do with keeping my body slim and tight, and everything to do with the memories I bury beneath an avalanche of bad decisions.

“Yeah, they kept you from doing anything fuckin’ useful with your life too,” Tank snaps.

He’s right. Of course, he’s right. But it doesn’t change a thing. I avoid his gaze and glance down at my plate, pushing the pancake around in the chocolate syrup with my fork.

Tank sighs and tosses his napkin onto the table. Shoving the plate aside, he rests his forearms on the table, palms up, relaxed. It would be nothing to reach out and place my hands in his, to reassure him that I know he only has my best interest at heart, but I don’t. Because the truth hurts, and the truth is that there is no future between us. There never was, and there never will be. “I’m not the enemy here. I’m just trying to help.”

“And yet you still won’t tell me why,” I challenge. What he’d said earlier about no one else being willing to help me is true enough, but it isn’t the only reason I’m here with him.

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