Chapter 19

The day has worn on.Savage has spent it on the leather armchair across from the sofa, his laptop on his lap while I read. Lunch was grilled cheese sandwiches paired with white wine, and the rain patters on. Not roaring like it was last night or even this morning, but a steady drum of noise.

He grunts under his breath and lifts his phone, using those large thumbs to type something out on the screen. His sweater tugs over his biceps, and I can’t help staring at him. Or remembering the look on his face when he caught me in the library.

Not just anger, but a coldness.

Like a shutter had slammed shut over his emotions. Like he was looking through me at someone else.

I take a sip of my wine and try to focus on the page in my book, but I can’t concentrate because of Savage.

His presence isn’t just distracting, it makes me squirm. I’m constantly thinking of how he pressed into me earlier, how angry he got, and his words from last night. That he is a broken man.

“You want to play a drinking game?” I ask.

Savage lifts his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No, it’s a terrible idea,” I say. “But there’s nothing else to do, and I can’t concentrate on my book.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s giving me inappropriate thoughts,” I say.

That gets his attention. He sets his laptop on the coffee table and sits up a little straighter. “What kind of drinking game?”

I grin at him. “It’s easy to manipulate you into doing what I want, you know. All I have to do is mention anything related to sex, and you jump like somebody poked you in the ass.”

“You don’t have to manipulate me,” he says. “You just have to ask.”

“Yeah, right.”

“What do you want?” he asks.

And I can almost picture him calling me princess again. I press my thighs together. “If I told you, do you promise to give it to me?”

He takes a sip of his wine.

“That’s what I thought,” I say. “You sir, are scared.”

His lip quirks up at the corner, and my stomach rolls and flutters. I’ve never seen Savage afraid of anything. He’s the picture of control, but this afternoon, when he rubbed himself against me like we were horny teens, I got a peek behind that mask.

I want more.

“What about truth or dare?”

“That’s not a drinking game,” he says.

“Okay, then never have I ever?”

Savage arches an eyebrow at me.

This is juvenile, but there’s nothing else to do. Is it criminal that I want to know more about Savage? He’s so shut off. He won’t answer my questions or even hint at the truth about the library or about the fact that he knew my favorite food and made it for me. It might not seem like a big deal to someone else, but it means something to me.

“Never have I ever,” I start, then bite my lip. “Wait, you know how this works, right? I say never have I ever and the thing, and then if you’ve done it, you have to drink.”

“I’m familiar,” Savage says. “I’m almost forty, not almost seventy.”

“Fair enough,” I laugh. “Okay, uh, never have I ever had sex in a public place.”

Savage takes a sip of his drink. I don’t.

“Revealing,” I say, grinning at him. “Mr. Navy SEAL Bodyguard is a rule breaker.”

Savage studies his glass, then looks up at me. “Never have I ever,” he grumbles, “had a massage.”

I drink, but he doesn’t. “Boring,” I call. “A massage? Seriously?”

“I don’t like people touching me,” he replies.

“That’s not what you said last night.”

He chokes on a little wine and dabs his beard.

I laugh, because it’s fun that I can get under his skin. Painful, but fun. And it’s given me an idea. “Never have I ever stripped for someone.”

I take a sip of wine. He doesn’t.

Savage glares at me over the rim of his glass. “Who did you strip for?”

“Huh?”

“Who the fuck did you strip for?”

“What does it matter?”

“Is it this Franklin idiot?”

“No,” I say.

“The guy before that. What was his name?”

“Does it matter what his name is?” I ask.

“Yes. What’s his name?” Savage leans forward, his eyes intense and focused on me.

“Savage, I didn’t strip for him. But I did strip for you last night,” I say, “if you recall. I took my shirt off while I was sitting in your lap.”

He freezes. His jaw works, but no sound comes out.

So, I did make an impression.

“Enough of this game,” he grunts, and sits back.

I hide my smile behind the rim of my glass. I can’t help it. I’ve spent years feeling awkward and nervous around Savage, and now I’m making him feel the same way?

“You want to try truth or dare?” I ask.

“I do not.”

“Oh, come on, it will be fun,” I say.

His expression is unreadable. The rain, the crackle of the fire, the wine. It couldn’t be more romantic, but there’s still a space between us, and I’m not sure that will change.

I’ve never been particularly forward. I don’t want to come on too strong, but I want him so bad I keep crossing and uncrossing my legs, and looking for comfort I can’t get.

Savage holds my gaze but doesn’t talk, and my breathing hitches in my chest.

“Y-You know what I’ve never done?” I ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve never taken a ride on the back of a motorcycle.”

He nods. “Because your brother would have a heart attack.”

“Probably. Cash has been mostly distracted by June this past while, so I could’ve gotten away with it if not for my meddling stalker,” I say, with a cheesy grin. “What made you get, uh, a motorcycle?”

Savage stiffens incrementally, and for a second, I’m sure I’ve crossed yet another line. He releases a gruff breath. “Before I came out here, to Heatstroke, I lived in San Diego. I was part of a motorcycle club out there for a couple of years.”

“A motorcycle club?”

“Yeah.”

“What was that like?”

“It wasn’t great,” he says. “It was dangerous, and it led me down the wrong path pretty damn quick. I did some things I’m not proud of.” He scratches his neck, and I can’t help staring at the tattoos, how strong his hands are, the way he moves. “I wasn’t part of the club for long.”

“Why? What happened?” I sit forward, tucking my knees underneath my body, and setting the wine glass down on the table.

“A lot of shitty things,” he says. “I was in a bad place when I joined the club. I was looking for revenge in the wrong places, and I thought they would help me get it.”

My pulse races. “Revenge?”

He downs his wine in one swift motion and sets it aside. The glass looks ridiculous in his huge hands.

“Yes. Revenge. But the leader of that club, Davis, made promises to me that he couldn’t keep. It was a trade. I did what he wanted, he was supposed to help me get what I wanted,” he says.

I’m stuck on every word.

“But he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain,” Savage continues. “And I realized that the parts of me I liked were gone. And all that was left was anger. So I decided to leave.”

I gnaw on my bottom lip. “You left? Is that a thing you can do?” Granted, my knowledge about motorcycle clubs comes solely from motorcycle club romance novels, but whatever.

“Not easily,” Savage says.

“But you’re fine now?”

“That depends on your definition of fine, Princess.”

My stomach pirouettes. I love it when he calls me that. I shouldn’t, because I’m half convinced it’s a reference to how helpless I am and how everyone looks after me, but from his mouth… My God.

“You met Cash after you arrived in Heatstroke, right?”

“That’s right,” Savage says. “Your brother saved my life.”

“Are you serious? I had no idea.”

“It’s how we met.” Savage takes a breath.

I’m so nervous my palms are clammy. Before, all I had to go on was my raw physical attraction to Savage, but now that he’s opening up to me, things are getting so much worse. He’s fascinating. Mysterious. Strong.

“I arrived in Heatstroke late at night. You know the overlook on the bay?”

“Sure.” There was a road that ran up the hill encircling the bay on the coastal road into Heatstroke

“I stopped there,” Savage says. “And I was, uh, considering my options. I wanted to be rid of everything that had happened over the past couple of years. I was going to drive my motorcycle off the cliff and end it.”

“Savage, I’m so sorry.” I press my hand over my mouth.

“But your brother happened to arrive up there in time to stop me. He was practically a kid. He’d just brought Alex back to Heatstroke, and he was up there having a night off. He talked me down,” Savage says. “I owe your brother my life.”

“That’s—”

“It is what it is,” Savage says. “There’s no amount of favors I could do for him that would repay what he’s given me.”

“Cash wouldn’t want you to feel indebted to him,” I say. “He’s not like that.”

Savage doesn’t answer me, but the quiet in the room grows. He gets up and comes back a minute later with a battery-powered radio. Music drifts from its tinny speakers. Romantic music.

“What about you?” Savage asks.

“What about me?”

“What do you enjoy that excites you? Motorcycles did that for me. Still do when I get the chance to ride. What does it for you?”

“Uh.” I swallow. Don’t say anything dumb. “Books, listening to music, and travel. I would love to travel. I’ve always dreamed of visiting other countries. Honestly, I’ve always dreamed about experiencing the things I read about in books.”

Savage’s gaze darkens. The fire crackles and spits, the music sweeps through the room, and I’m caught up in the moment. In hoping that whatever Savage is thinking is as “bad” as what I’m thinking.

“What?”

“What kind of things?”

“Uh, all kinds of things,” I whisper.

He gets up, crosses the room and stands over me. Savage is huge even when I’m standing, but sitting down, his presence is unbearable. “Show me,” he says.

Oh. My. God.

“S-Show you?”

“Yeah.” He puts out a hand.

I take it and stand up. “Are you—? You realize what I mean, right?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Most of the books I read are romance novels. Or fantasy romance novels. Or romance novels that are fifty percent smut.”

Savage smiles at me, and it’s a stunning smile. It makes my toes curl. It’s like the anger and grumpiness he usually carries with him is a facade, and it’s gone. He’s open. “I figured as much.”

He figured… He figured as much. “Oh. I… Oh, well I…” I’m stammering like a fool. Gone is “Miss In Control Hannah.”

My hand is still in his, and his fingers brush up the side of it to my wrist. He holds it tight and squeezes.

“Hannah, if I could, I would worship your body.”

I inhale sharply, my gaze dancing to his.

He draws closer, so that his body heat is unbearable, and I look up at him. He runs his fingers from my wrist, up the side of my body to my throat and rests them there. “Your heart is beating fast.”

I tremble.

Savage leans in, his lips against my ear. “You’ve enjoyed torturing me for the past couple of hours, haven’t you?”

He rests his hand around my throat, squeezing gently.

“You’ve enjoyed making my cock hard.”

I whimper.

“You’ve enjoyed knowing that I want you,” he murmurs. “I can’t touch you, Hannah. I can’t bend you over the sofa and eat your pussy until you come so many times, you can’t breathe. Until you scream so hard your throat hurts. Until your body is shaking and you can’t remember what time of the day it is, what month it is, what year it is, or anything else other than my name.”

I shut my eyes and breathe through my nose.

“You’ve been playing with fire all fucking day long,” he says, his breath on my neck. “Now, you’re going to be a good fucking girl, and say my name.”

I moan. I swear, I’m going to spontaneously combust. Or even come without him having touched me.

This is crazy.

“That’s it,” Savage says. “But this time, moan while you say my name.”

I’m hyperventilating. Getting dizzy.

His grip on my throat tightens, and it sends pulsing desire shooting through my core. He’s completely in control. “Say my name, Hannah. Moan it.”

“Savage,” I whisper, and it does come out as a moan. A desperate moan.

“That’s it, Princess. Just like that. I want you to do that again, but this time I want you to picture me fucking my hand and coming all over your face.”

“Savage.” The moan is obscene. It’s out of control. I swear to God, I am going to pass out in a second.

He squeezes even tighter, and it’s our only point of contact apart from his lips brushing against my ear, his beard tickling my skin. “And the last thing I want you to know, Hannah, is that I heard you coming for me the other night. And if you think your fantasies are good, they are nothing compared to the real thing.”

I moan his name one last time.

Savage releases my throat, and I nearly collapse. He catches me halfway to the sofa. He eases me onto it, his lips inches from mine.

“Don’t play with me again,” he says. “The next time you do, I’m going to ruin you.”