Page 120 of Filthy Love

What the … her heart almost tripped over itself in her haste to get across the room.

She was out of the bed, forgetful she was naked even as his eyes flared.

“Colton…”

“What is it?”

It was the first time seeing his large tattoo in daylight and everything in her screamed and sighed all at once. She ran fingers over it, his brows fell over his eyes with a hard, gusty inhale when he must have realized but he didn’t stop her from trailing her fingers over the barb wire detailing going across the left side of his side and half up his shoulder and down his ribs.

It was the name inside the gaping wound exposing a twisted heart that made her own cry.Little Bitwas tattooed into the heart dead center like it owned the entire organ.

“How old is this?”

“I got it eight years ago.”

Back and forth her finger recreated the letters of the nickname only he called her and had ever since the first time they spoke.

Hi, I’m Ambrosio’s sister. You can call me Gia.

You’re just a little bit of a thing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you ever come around the club?”

She looked him in the eye. His question knocking her off kilter. His hand covered hers, both the mangled tattooed heart and the real one beating smoothly. “I couldn’t, Colton. I had to try to have a life without seeing you if you didn’t want me back, without every breath being about you.”

“And that’s why I never told you I had this.”

“All this time,” she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. “Get showered, I’ll make you coffee and feed you before you set about working.” Dismissing the tenderness, he pulled on his shirt and ambled out of the bedroom.

On jelly legs she went through her morning routine of getting ready. Her work schedule was where she really should be concentrating on this week until her clientele list was once again full.

Only, it was the fierce man in the other room pouring her coffee that owned her thoughts.

It was more than sex. No matter what he said. She was in his skin.

She smiled to herself and hummed as she applied her light make up.

In his skin … in more ways than one.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“When the past rings the doorbell … what do you do?” - Hawk

“Motherfuckin' Russian asshole is scraping on my last damn nerve.” Complained Rider as he climbed off his custom-built bike. Hawk followed suit climbing down off his Harley, and he fell into a strong step with his prez.

He'd seen Rider in these moods before.

It was impossible to live the outlaw life and expect to suck on daisies all day long.

Trouble came. Trouble went.

It was a hard life at times. Dangerous was a given. But this new strain of irritation was felt by every patched member. Rider especially. It was making the top man antsy as fuck.

They'd just arrived back into town after a closed meeting with Jamie Steele over at the Apollo Kingsmen MC.

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