Page 127 of Darling Psycho

Time to scare the little badass with secrets of his baser self.

Lawless threw his legs over the side of the bed.

“You can check on the two kittens first, give them the drops.”

He’d found a newborn litter several nights ago when he was doing a walkabout around the cabin perimeters. Unluckily, one didn’t make it, leaving two moggy kittens to fight for their lives. They’d been attacked by something, probably whatever killed their mother.

“You need the kittens as much as they need you, you know?”

Lawless, not denying the claim, rolled up a brow in the process of slipping a pair of light lounge pants up his legs. “How do you figure that?”

“Your big secret, the one you hide behind in plain sight, the secret you’d probably go ballistic over if people discovered. You like to be needed. Those kittens are defenseless, and they need a champion like you.”

The fire in his gut went up like she’d tossed gasoline on his skeleton.

She smiled, so pleased with herself. Like she had him all figured out.

“Pathetic creatures if they make me their champion.”

“You’re my champion, always have been.”

Again, the flames licked around his skin. She was making him face truths, making him taste them in his mouth.

“I was in the right place. Anyone would have helped you. You were pitiful and crying.”

She grinned, unperturbed. He knew that about her by now. Not much swayed Angela from proving her point.

“You feared me and my crying, but you still helped me. You helped me for years just like a champion of the weak would.”

“You’re trying to romanticize me again, and you know how badly that worked out for you before.”

“Yeah, I know, we had rough sex to teach me a lesson, big grumpy biker.”

He smirked at her. The girl wasn’t wrong.

“Quit your yapping and get a move on. I’ll make us some food. Are you hungry?”

“I’m always hungry, I love when you cook. It’s so sexy. Will you wear that black waist apron again?”

She was already racing ahead of him to the kitchen when Lawless heaved a sigh.

He hadn’t thought this all the way through to the end, had he?

Tying his feelings to this one. Like he had a say in the matter.

He was going to die of frustration before he hit 50.

Lucky he had no hair for her to turn gray.

She had the apron in her hands when he walked through to the kitchen.

He tied it around his waist without saying a word.

Afterward, she bottle-fed and gave antibiotics to the kittens in the laundry room away from territorial Oscar. She glided onto a stool in time for him to flip loaded omelets.

Eyeing her, he saw how rumpled she still looked, and his mouth got wet.

The need for her and her sweet body never quit. He could fuck Angela twenty-three hours of the day and still want to use that last hour to crawl between her legs.

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