Page 99 of Savage

“I hate you,” she sobs. Her tears fall onto my chest, and I feel every one of them. I relish them. I kiss the top of her head and hold her as she falls apart. I don’t care how long I have to stand here. I’ll stand for an eternity. I’ll be a sentinel against her pain, her fear, her sadness—forever, if I have to. If she’ll let me.

“Why are you doing this?” she says after her sobs have quieted.

“Isn’t it fuckin’ obvious?” I ask in a whisper, afraid that if I talk too loudly, I’ll ruin the moment we’re having and scare her away.

She looks up at me through tear-filled eyes and leans up on her toes to kiss me. I don’t open my mouth. Bloody pussy that I am, I don’t want to fuck her now, because that isn’t what she needs, and though my cock would strongly disagree, it isn’t what I need, either. We need this moment, now. I need to hold her and connect with her on some level other than just fucking, because we’ve never really done that.

For months, I’ve been sitting on this. Too selfish, stupid, and too afraid that someone would find out how I felt about her and use it against me—even Kick. I was afraid that if I showed weakness, if I showed her how I felt about her, my brothers, my Prez, and even Ivy would take advantage of that. They’d use my love for her against me. I’d always seen love as a weakness, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe making yourself vulnerable to someone else was the bravest thing you could ever do.Or maybe I just need my fuckin’ head checked.

Ivy tries to deepen her kisses, but I place my hands on either side of her face and stare down at her. “I’m not gonna fuck you now.”

“But I thought—”

“Not now,” I say, scooping my hands under her arse. I lift her up, and walk us back to the bed and lay her down, resting between her legs for just a minute, and then I roll onto my back and drag her into the crook of my arm.

“Tank?” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never had anyone just hold me when I cried. My father drugged me, or he touched me in order to shut me up, and Kick used to—”

“I don’t wanna hear about them right now.” I bring her hand to my mouth and kiss her knuckles, and then her long fingers one by one. “Someday, when you’re ready you’ll tell me about your father.”

“Someday,” she agrees. “I’ve never had someone care for me—not the way you do.”

She climbs on top of me and stretches her small body against mine. Despite her being completely fucking stark naked, she doesn’t try to make it sexual. She just burrows in against my chest, and I hold her. A short time later, Ivy presses a kiss against my neck as she traces the tattoos on my shoulder with warm fingertips. I wrap my arms tightly around her.

That’s the thing about the broken ones—they’re never too far beyond repair, even though it might seem that way. They just need a little glue and the right pair of hands to stick ’em back together.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

TANK

Prez calls the end of the meet, and all four bodies in attendance, including that crazy old fucker, Country, file out. I hang back to talk to Prez, only Raine skips in wearing a flouncy little fucking sundress that makes her legs look edible, and I have to avert my eyes to ensure my balls don’t get cut off and handed to me in a paper bag. Prez isn’t looking at me, though—his eyes are firmly fixed on Raine’s cleavage as she bends over in front of him and sets his coffee and one of those fancy fucking muffins she brings in special for him every day. I look too, but you can’t blame a man. Her tits are on display, and the best part is she’s not even aware of it—it’s not intentional. In fact, she’d likely turn beet red and hightail it out of the room if she knew we were both checking her out.

Unintentional cleavage is always better. It’s like the Holy fucking Grail of tit gawking. Some women are showy like that, and some just aren’t. Some have no idea what kind of power they hold over you, and others, other women like Ivy? They know it. They’re all too keenly aware, and they exploit it.

“You got somethin’ else you wanna talk to me about, brother?” Prez asks, and Raine looks up and blushes when she realises I’m still here watching her. I’m kind of offended that she didn’t know I was in the room. I’m pretty fucking hard to miss.

“Yeah, I do,” I say, and lean back in my chair. “You got another one of those muffins for me, Raine, darlin’?”

Raine’s eyes widen. She’s a sweet girl, but I don’t make a habit of talking to her. I don’t make a habit of talking to anyone around here much, except Prez, Kick, and Ivy. “Uh … no. I’m sorry. I can head down the street and—”

“What does she look like, your fuckin’ slave?” Prez says, leaning forward in his seat and resting his hands on the table. I smirk, because Raine’s adorable when she’s nervous—or, more nervous than usual—and I just like to mess with Prez. That dumb fucker is so far gone for this sweet little piece of arse that he don’t even realise he’s wearing that shit, not just on his sleeve, but he’s got her tattooed all over his fucking forehead.Dumbarse.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Prez catches her hand before she can turn away, and she glances down at his big oil-stained fingers encircling her wrist. “You don’t got to bring anyone those muffins but me, darlin’. You got that?”

She nods and scurries from the room. I turn and watch her arse as she leaves, and I’m met with a cold, hard threat from my Prez because of it. “You lookin’ to have those pretty baby blues of yours removed, Tank?”

I grin. “Nah. She’s a fucking peach, real ripe and juicy that one, but I like my eyes and my balls where they are. Besides, I got enough shit to deal with since the junkie moved in.”

“How’s she doing?”

“You mean when she’s not trying to claw my face off, holding Killer at gunpoint and shooting him in the chest as she runs away? She’s a fuckin’ walking advert for schizophrenia, Prez.”

“You takin’ care of her right? Getting her clean? Meetin’ her other needs?”

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