The plate went to the coffee table while he eyed her, smiling at him. “I didn’t plan on killing anyone today. So who the fuck are you telling you’re naked?”
“It’s only Judge. He wants to come over for that thriller book.” She switched to speakerphone in time for Lawless to hear, “Jesus fucking Christ, don’t tell him it’s me; I didn’t want to know you were buck naked. I had no part in that. I wanna live to see thirty.”
Angela pleaded Judge’s case like a crusading warrior last year. And she might have sucked his cock a few dozen times to help her argument. Lawless was weakened by her dick-sucking lips.
But knowing it was only Judge, Angela’s now official bodyguard, didn’t help to stop the possessiveness rising to the surface like the trembling hairs on a wolf’s back.
Angela noticed this and grinned with arousal in her eyes, “ut oh, you made Lawless mad, I gotta go.”
“Me? I did fuck all, you crazy woman.” Judge yelled right before Lawless grabbed the phone and hung up.
“You’re gonna have me killing everyone, aren’t you?” sitting down, he pulled her legs onto his lap while she cackled and reached for a toasted sandwich.
“I signed on for a psycho, a psycho I must have.”
Smirking, Lawless rubbed her calf. She was a holy terror and the love of his life.
No doubt about it, he’d met his match.
And she was dragging him along for the ride.
Taming him with every devilish smile.
* * *
Two years later.
Lawless had lived his adult life knowing he controlled everything, so he was never surprised.
Falling in love, yeah, big punch to the temple, but he was used to that now. It still caught him off guard sometimes, the depth of the crazy deprivation he felt for Angela, the lengths he’d go to for one smile from her.
But this new shit made not only his neurons misfire; it had them blazing like beacons in his head.
It wasn’t meant to happen.
But it had anyway.
“Go back to sleep,” he told her, skimming his lips to Angela’s neck. She was tired, but anyone would be by working the hours she did to graduate from law school.
“Love you,” she mumbled, reaching out a hand even in sleep. Lawless grasped it, kissed her palm before tucking her in again.
He called the madness in his head love. It was a constant buzzing, like a radio wave thrumming through him. Why else would he do the shit he did if he didn’t love her like a disease gnawing at his flesh?
It had been two months. Even so, his heart hammered at doing this same walk through the upper cabin level.
Lawless could cut a man in half with only a minute’s notice and not falter for the switch in routine, but this had taken the feet from underneath him, and he wasn’t right yet.
The squalling body filled his arms when he reached into the crib and lifted out his son.
Saint was eleven pounds with quivering lips and flailing hands, but settled when Lawless curled the boy into his chest.
Saint. He was going to laugh over that name for the rest of his life.
Angela chose the name the night he was born, calling him her little Saint.
With who he had for a father, the name Saint was a damn mockery.
But Saint was innocent. He’d never trample through the stinking sludge of a trailer park or eat week-old bread because there was nothing else. Lawless would make sure of that.