Page 55 of Wicked Minds
I’m nothing but a boneless noodle in his arms as he slides his fingers from me with a wet pop. Holding my gaze, he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them into his mouth, humming as his eyes dilate with carnal desire. “So fucking sweet.”Oh, god.That one act has my body crying out for another round, but instead, Royce gently turns me to face him, and I stare up intothe softest expression I’ve yet to see on him. His hand cups my face before his lips descend in a slow, languid kiss that tastes of us, and I can feel it to the bottom of my soul.
Oh yeah, I could get used to orgasms and kisses while I make these men grovel.
He pulls away slowly, reluctantly, and I mumble, “I’m not a wallflower.”
Appearing confused, Royce’s lips twitch in amusement at my nonsensical words.
“You know me as the wallflower beneath your thumb,” I attempt to explain. “At the mercy of you, Logan, and Grayson, but that’s not who I am. I know how to survive, but more than that, I know how to fight. What battles are worth fighting, and which ones to let go of. When I was under your roof, I mostly let it go because I had a bigger agenda to work toward.”
“Your daughter.”
“Yes.”
His eyes search mine. “I haven’t thought you were a wallflower since you pointed out the fuck off stamped on my forehead, and I know you wouldn’t be standing here today if you weren’t an absolute warrior. However, if beneath your thumb is where you want me, James, then that’s where I’ll be, but there are far better body parts I could be under.”
“Yo, are you fuckers about done in there?” Logan’s voice slices through the room, reminding me of where we are and what we’ve been doing as heat floods my cheeks.
I cut my gaze to the door as it creaks open, Logan popping his head in. His gaze instantly finds mine. He looks completely unbothered to find Royce and I standing so close together, looking… well… ruffled.
“Here, asshole.” Looking into the room, Logan tosses sweats and a hoodie at Royce. “I grabbed your shit. The way youstormed out of there like a man possessed, I assumed you weren’t planning on coming back for it.”
Royce merely grunts as he steps into the gray sweatpants, pulling them on over his shorts before shrugging into the hoodie. I notice it’s the same one he was wearing last time I was here, with the nameRuthlessstitched across the back in large letters and again in smaller font across the front breast.
“We don’t usually hang around after he’s done,” Logan says to me. “Do you want to come with us?”
“She’s coming,” Royce dictates, not even looking at me as he rummages through his locker.
I roll my eyes, but say to Logan, “Yeah, okay. I just need to tell Tara I’m leaving.”
“Here.” Royce shoves a leather jacket into my hands before tossing a duffel over his shoulder, and I stare down at the jacket before glancing up at him, arching a brow. He scowls. “You’re not wearing enough.”
Logan snickers and I open my mouth, hoping some witty retort comes to mind before words start falling, except Royce cuts me off with a masculine growl. “Put the damn jacket on, James. It’s freezing outside.”
My eyes narrow, not entirely convinced that is what he meant, but I let it go and slide my arms into his jacket. I’m immediately doused in the scent of leather and damp earth, and I have to fight the urge not to fill my lungs with the unique smell of Royce King.
Once we’re ready, Logan slings his arm over my shoulder and tucks me into his side, and we follow Royce out of the locker room. I direct the guys toward the bar, and in single file, we push our way through the crowd, me sandwiched between the two of them.
When we near the bar, I press onto my tiptoes to try to spot Tara through the crowd. “She’s over there.” Logan points toward where he sees Tara. “She’s with some guy.”
“Probably her brother.”
“Nah, we know Xander. It isn’t him. Think I’ve seen the guy on the door, though.”
“Oh, Rome.”
Looking down at me, Logan arches an eyebrow. “You just know every guy here, don’t you?”
I huff out a frustrated breath and try to jump in my heels to see over the heads of the people in front of me.
“Jesus, woman. You’ll break an ankle carrying on like that in those death traps.” Wrapping his arms around my waist, Logan effortlessly lifts me off my feet until I have a clear view of where Tara is standing near the bar, having what appears to be an argument with Rome.
“Looks like she’s busy,” Royce states.
“Yeah.” I chew on my lip before making a decision and pulling out my phone. “I’ll text her. Rome and Xander will make sure she’s okay.” I hurriedly fire off a message, tucking my phone away before we leave the warehouse. A zing of anticipation races along my spine as Logan helps me into the passenger seat of Royce’s truck, and the three of us drive into the darkness.
18
LOGAN
