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Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Jigsaw

My sassy little lady death with her oh-so-funny fuckboy jokes.

I can't wait to get my hands on her again.

Fuckboy. I should've been insulted that she implied I've been out fucking everything in sight. But I like the way her husky voice tickles my ears too much. Even when she's making fun of me and bestowing compliments on Dex. Fine bone structure my ass.

I definitely need to go back and see her. Try to make things right.

What's the point?

The club's riding to Deadbranch soon. I'll be gone for at least a week. Why start something up and then leave her again?

The entire way back to the clubhouse I'm at war with myself. Dex and I take over the empty war room for a while to go over the route we'll take to Deadbranch for Digger's memorial service.

After we wrap that up, it's still early. Dex heads back to Crystal Ball.

I consider working in the garage, like I'd originally planned to do this afternoon. But I can't stop thinking about Margot. She needed us to move that big-ass casket upstairs. She must be busy with work.

I shouldn't bother her. Not when she basically just accused me of being a fuckboy. And tried to make me jealous by implying she's fucking randoms now. Which I know she absolutely isn't doing. We only made it through half of lesson two.

Before I know it, I'm back on my bike headed to Pine Hollow for the second time today. At least all this extra riding will prepare me for the long ride to Deadbranch.

Shit, I need to warn Margot we're all going to be away.

If that's all I'm going to say to her, I can send it in a text. Or remind Teller to do it. Shit, I should've texted him to let him know everything was fine at Margot's and ask how Charlotte's doing.

The exit for Slater's rapidly approaching.

Get off, or keep riding?

I veer onto the off-ramp. Christ, I hate it out here. So many twisty, narrow roads full of cars half-assedly parked at the curb before the wider rural roads leading out to Pine Hollow and Margot's neighborhood.

Four cars I don't recognize are in the parking lot when I arrive. I tuck my bike in a nook against the house and jog up the porch steps.

The screen door opens with a screech. I pause with my hand wrapped around the brass knob of the inner door. Loud argumentative voices seep outside.

I cock my head, trying to make out any words.

Shrill screams rise above the other noise.

"Fuck this." I twist the knob and enter the house as silently as possible.

"Dad wanted to be cremated!" a woman screams. "He would not stand for this! He would hate this!"

"He's not here!" a man roars. "We need to honor him."

Two more people add their grievances.

Holy shit, is this the kind of fuckery Margot deals with on the regular?

Her soft voice murmurs soothing words I can't make out from here. Is she alone with these crazy people? I creep along the hallway toward her father's office where the voices are coming from.

Mr. Cedarwood's calm, authoritative tone rises above the rest of the chatter. I slow my steps. Thank fuck Margot's not dealing with that by herself.

Still, I continue until I'm right outside Cedarwood's office. The door's open and I quickly walk past, sneaking a look inside. Margot's on the small couch holding the hand of a sobbing woman. She looks up and our eyes meet. Her jaw drops, then she quickly composes herself and returns her attention to the woman. Three other people are either sitting on chairs or standing.

Margot's okay. That's all I care about.

"Can you go see who that is, Margot?" Cedarwood says. "Were we expecting someone else?"

"Ah, sure." Margot murmurs something I can't make out and a few seconds later steps into the hallway.

Her flaming eyes land on me and she marches my way. God damn she's cute when she's riled.

"What are you doing here?" She grabs my arm and pushes me toward a large room with a hideous patterned rug and lots of chairs.

She reaches behind her and slides a pocket door shut.

"Why did you come back?" She crosses her arms over her chest and glares. "I'm with a family."

"I heard." My gaze skims over her, noting she removed her clever little pins. "Where's your fuckboy repellent?" I flick my finger against the collar of her pink-and-black cardigan.

She lifts her chin. "I didn't need it for this consultation. Why are you here?"

Because I think I'm falling in love with you, you adorably bonkers woman. "I want to talk to you."

"So. Use. The. Phone." She enunciates each word slowly, like she's speaking to a toddler.

"You know I only said that shit before so Dex wouldn't think anything's going on between us."

" Nothing's been going on between us for weeks." She lifts her chin and huffs. "But you're right. You were honest from the beginning that you don't do relationships. I'm sorry if something I did made you feel like I wanted you to be my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. My entire body cringes. I'm not boyfriend material.

But I want her so fucking much.

A spark of mischief lights up her eyes and tilts her lips to the side. "Your little fuckboy dissertation was flawed, though."

"Is that right?" I take a step closer, staring down at her, closing in like a predator. "How so?"

"‘Stellar in bed' means you would've left me satisfied , and, well…" She raises a mocking eyebrow and shrugs.

"The fuck I didn't." I lean down and whisper in her ear, "Last time I left here, my chin was dripping with your scent, you little liar."

Her chest rises and falls faster, and she braces her hand against my chest, as if she wants to push me away but can't find the strength.

After a few seconds, she lifts her head and glares into my eyes. "You should've warned me you don't honor your commitments."

That's right, you know I left you satisfied. Wait, commitments? "Honor my… what ?"

"Our lessons ." She practically snarls the word. "We weren't finished."

Never had someone so angry they didn't get to suck my dick.

The corners of my mouth turn up. "You still want your lessons?"

She lets out an indignant sniff. "No."

Yes, she does. Or she would've kicked me out by now. Can I do this? Be her actual fuckboy? Teach her everything she wants to learn, knowing we're never going to be more?

"You didn't find anyone else to teach you?" I rest my hands on her shoulders as if my touch can act as some sort of human lie detector.

She shrugs me off and glances away. "I haven't had the time."

Bullshit. She doesn't want anyone else.

Keen awareness that there's an office full of people less than a hundred feet away waiting for her to return slaps me into reality. "Can we talk when you're done?"

Her gaze strays to the closed door. "I don't know how long this is going to take."

"I'll wait."

She glances around the room, then sighs. "Okay. You can wait upstairs. Keep Gretel company for a while."

I chuckle. Is the cat pissed at me too? "How do I get in? I thought it was a biometric lock?"

She clenches her jaw. "There's a button on the side. If you press it, a keypad pops up. The code is," she leans closer and whispers, "sixty-five-ninety-eight."

Who is she worried about overhearing us? The ghosts?

"Got it."

"You don't want to write it on your hand or something?" she sneers.

I flick my gaze to hers and add some frost to my answer. "No."

"I have to get back." She grips my arm, just a slight, friendly amount of pressure. But fuck, I've missed her hands on me. "It really might take a while." She gestures toward her dad's office. "It's kind of messy."

"Sounds like it. You need me to stay down here for protection?"

She seems to consider it for a few seconds. "No. It'll be okay."

"Want me to run out and get something for dinner?"

"You don't have to." She shrugs, then brightens. "There's only one place that delivers pizza out here. We have a menu in the kitchen down the hall."

I wanted to do something nicer than pizza, but it'll have to do. "Okay. Any requests?"

"They make really good calzones. Just ask for extra sauce. They have a sausage and peppers pizza that's good too."

"You go there a lot?"

"At least once a week."

"Okay."

I want to lean down and kiss her, but she still looks prickly. Instead, I nod and take a step back, giving her space. "You finish with the Jerry Springer bunch, and I'll order some food."

She flicks her gaze to the ceiling. "This is one of the ones where…ugh!" She squeezes her hands together in front of her face like she's choking someone.

"You sure you don't want me to stay down here? In case you need me to escort someone out?"

It must be bad because she considers the offer a bit longer this time.

"No, it'll be too hard to explain why you're here to my dad."

God forbid you tell him we're —yeah, I get why she wouldn't want to tell him we're fuck buddies.

"If you need me, text."

She seems to relax a fraction, a hint of the Margot I've missed making an appearance. "Thank you." She steps closer and rests her hand on my arm. "I'm glad you're here."

Why is it so easy for her to say how she feels when I couldn't do it if I had a gun to my head?

After she returns to the appointment, I slip into the parlor across the hall so I don't have to pass Cedarwood's office again. I push through the swinging door and search the kitchen for the pizza place menu.

Calzones. Chicken wings. Pizza. Fuck it. I order a bunch of stuff, give them my card number, then head upstairs.

The code works on her door, and I push my way inside.

Gretel's sitting by the entry closet, flicking her tail as if she's annoyed no one's been around to entertain her.

"Hey, girl," I murmur, crouching down to pet her. "Miss me?"

She stares at me, allows me to stroke my hand over her back once, then turns around and walks away, tail held high in the air.

"I guess I deserve that." I shrug off my cut and hang it in the closet.

It's weird to be in Margot's space without her. That she trusts me enough to leave me alone in her apartment when she's not here feels like we're already building back our relation—whatever this is.

Or she didn't want you to wait downstairs where her father might see you.

I take off my boots and leave them near the closet, then pad into the kitchen. Good thing I ordered so much food, her fridge is full of sparkling water, eggs, and not much else.

I grab a bottle of water, unscrew it and take a quick sip. My gaze lands on the lounge chair. The place of our first "lesson." Maybe I'll strip down, pose on the lounger, and greet her like something out of a bad porno when she gets back.

Nah, too soon.

There really isn't anywhere else to sit, though.

I sink into the chair. Margot's scent is all around me—a mixture of something floral and crisp. Underneath that, a faint pungent scent like vinegar lingers. Chemicals from her job? I've never noticed it before. Gretel jumps up and curls herself into a ball next to me. I absently stroke my fingers over her fur. After a while, her purring kicks into high gear.

I pull out my phone and check the restaurant app. The food hasn't even left the place yet. Then I send Teller a text letting him know things are okay here and ask if Charlotte's okay.

A few seconds later, he responds.

Teller: We're good. Thx for taking care of that.

The stack of books on the table next to me grabs my attention and I set my phone down.

Deadly Women Throughout History , Encyclopedia of Serial Killers , Handbook of Crime Scene Forensics , Investigation of Death , and History of Poison .

What the ever-loving fuck is she into?

None of those are light, fluffy books to unwind with after a long day of caring for dead people. They're death-adjacent but not quite related to her work.

Curious, I pull myself out of the chair and walk over to the bookcases. More non-fiction on these shelves. Lots and lots of true crime books, chemistry books, some books on burial customs and funeral rites. At least they all sound like normal titles for someone in her profession. Further down, she has a collection of romance novels. I pull out a few titles to see if Trinity has designed any of the covers or if I recognize the models. One copyright page lists Trinity H. Ramsey as the photographer and designer. And even though the bulky, muscled and oiled model on the front is only pictured from chin to abs, I'd bet my Harley it's Wrath.

I grab my phone, take a quick picture, and send it to Rooster.

Me: Found one in the wild. Should I send to Wrath?

Rooster responds with a row of laughing face emojis.

Instead of antagonizing Wrath, I send the photo to Trinity with the same "found in the wild" caption, knowing how excited she'll be to see her work on someone's shelf.

Two texts come in at the same time.

Rooster: Where are you?

Trinity: OMG! Where?

That was a mistake. I don't bother answering either one.

The door clicks open behind me.

I shove the book back on the shelf and jam my phone in my pocket.

Margot steps inside. The fiery edge she had earlier seems to have disappeared, replaced with something more vulnerable and tired . Tired of the world and tired of bullshit. Probably my bullshit in particular.

"Hey, that was quicker than I expected," I greet her. "The food isn't here yet."

She closes her door and rubs her temples. "They finally settled on the casket you guys brought upstairs for us," she rasps. "So, thank you again for doing that."

I want to go to her and wrap her up in my arms, but I also want her to come to me to look for comfort. "Not a problem."

Gretel runs to Margot and twirls around her legs for a few seconds, then runs away again.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out. "Food's on its way. I'm going to run downstairs." I pause. "That okay or am I going to run into your dad?"

"No, he went home. Paul's around though, but he won't mind if you're here." She tugs her cardigan off. "I'm going to change."

"Okay." I meet her by the door. She stares up at me, expecting what?

Fuck it. I need her body against mine. I pull her into my arms. At first, she's stiff and resistant. But then she softens and slides her arms around my waist.

The hard knot of tension in my chest finally loosens. I've missed having her in my arms.

"I'm sorry I called you a fuckboy," she murmurs against my chest.

Deep, rumbling laughter eases out of me. I kiss the top of her head. "I'm sorry I've been acting like one."

Margot

Danger. I shouldn't trust Jigsaw again. But he's here now. He came back. That's enough. I'm a big girl. It's not his responsibility to protect my heart.

Hugging him, being held against his body feels too good. Familiar, comfortable, exciting. A spark I haven't felt since the last time I saw him lights me up inside.

His phone dings.

I pull away as he grabs it and checks the screen. "Food's here." He squeezes my shoulder. "I'll be right back."

"Okay." I hurry into my bedroom and strip off my dress, hanging it on a hook by my closet. I slip into a loose pair of soft, stretchy pants and a T-shirt.

For several stomach-churning moments, I stand frozen in my bedroom. Should I have put on something nicer? Sexier?

What are we going to talk about?

I'm in the kitchen gathering dishes and silverware when Jigsaw returns, holding a stack of white cardboard boxes and a grease-stained white paper bag. "How much did you order?"

He sets the pile on my counter and rubs his fingers over his chest. "A little bit of everything."

I pull down my prettiest plates. Cream stoneware with black leaves and acorns around the edges. I've only had a chance to use them once since I bought them. Did he get drinks too? I pluck my tall black beaded glass tumblers down, setting them on the counter with a thud .

Jigsaw comes up behind me and slides his hands over my hips, pressing himself against my back. Warmth pulses against my exposed shoulder and neck as he leans over and drags his lips against my sensitive skin. Sensation shoots straight to my nipples and I sigh, leaning against him.

"Is this lesson number three?" I ask between shaky breaths.

He withdraws his hands and cold air rushes in to replace his warmth. "Dinnertime." He pats my behind and reaches past me to grab the plates.

What just happened?

I take the glasses and follow him to the other side of the counter. "I'm sorry I don't have a proper dining table. I never bothered?—"

"It's fine." He eases onto one of the high stools and pats his hand on the other one. "Come sit next to me."

"Of course." I hop up, twisting the swiveling seat so our knees touch. "Show me what you got."

He flicks open one of the smaller boxes. "Calzone. You didn't specify what fillings you like, so I just got plain cheese and ricotta."

My mouth waters. "That's my favorite. I usually only eat half, though."

"Good to know." He sets the calzone on my plate, then locates a small container of sauce and sets it in front of me.

"I feel like nothing else will be as exciting now," he teases, opening up a white plastic container. "Hot wings. Pepperoni pizza. I'm a pretty basic fella."

"I like basic." I tap the perfectly golden crust of my calzone. "This is really just a big pizza pocket."

I cut the calzone in half and twirl my fork in the gooey cheese that oozes out. "Do you want half?"

"I'll try a piece."

I cut one piece into half and use my fork to set it on his plate.

"Thanks."

I thought I'd be nervous sharing a meal with him in my house but it's easy and cozy. From going out before, I already know he never comments or criticizes what or how much I eat.

Dinner isn't completely anxiety free. I only end up eating a quarter of my calzone and barely taste any of it. What we're hopefully going to do afterward has me bubbling over with excitement and a bit of fear. It should be my turn to go down on him .

I'm going to suck— ha! —at it and need a lot of instruction. Shame beats against me. He's probably had, I don't even want to think of how many women, do this for him who knew what they were doing. How's he supposed to relax and actually enjoy it if he has to stop and give me pointers every few seconds?

"You're not hungry?" he asks.

"I am." I slant a look at him. "For something off-menu."

He drops the half-eaten slice of pizza on his plate, grabs his drink and takes a long swallow. "Let's go."

Giddy and a little nervous, I take his hand and lead him into my bedroom. He closes the door behind us, then uses his bigger body to press me against the wall.

"What do you want tonight?" he asks, staring down at me.

"To make you feel good."

"I always feel good around you. What else?"

I blink, letting his first statement sink in. "I want to learn how to make you come with my mouth." I stick my tongue out at him in case that wasn't clear enough.

"Don't worry. You're going to put that fucking tongue to work." He tilts my head and seals his lips over mine. Our tongues clash and slide together. He snakes his hand under my shirt and pulls it up over my head, unhooking my bra before I've caught my breath.

I work at his belt buckle but still can't figure it out. His lips curl with amusement and he finally takes over. As soon as it's out of my way, I unbutton his jeans and carefully tug his zipper down. He strips his jeans off and kicks them toward my bed.

"Please?" I slide my hand under his T-shirt.

He stares at me for a long moment, then grips my shoulders and turns us so he's the one leaning against the wall. "Pants off." He nods to me.

I quickly shimmy out of them and fall to my knees. Like I stumbled into the sexiest underwear commercial ever, he crosses his arms and grips the hem of his shirt, slowly dragging it up and over his head.

Dear lord, he's a perfect masterpiece of muscle and tattooed skin. I kneel up and slide my fingertips over ridges of defined muscle then trace the strip of hair that runs from his belly button underneath his boxer-briefs. His stomach muscles flex and ripple quicker as my finger stops at the waistband.

"I'll have to do this more than once, you know." I slide my hands over his thighs—so firm and strong.

"Yeah?" He reaches down and cups my chin, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip. "Why's that?"

"Once to train me?—"

A sharp scowl crosses his face. "You're not a dog ."

"To teach me how to do it right," I continue. "And then again so you can actually enjoy it."

His eyes close for a second. "Margot, please believe me when I say, if your mouth is wrapped around my cock, I'm going to be enjoying the fuck out of it."

"Oh."

"You're overthinking this." He cups my face, gently caressing my cheek. "Unless you try to bite my dick off, there really isn't a wrong way."

I blink, unsure of how to respond to that or the image his words bring to mind.

"Go ahead." His eyes darken as I curl my fingers under the waistband and tug his boxer-briefs.

Impatient or wanting to demonstrate, he pushes the briefs down and withdraws his hard length. Up close like this, he seems bigger, more of a challenge. My mouth waters and I yank his briefs all the way down his legs.

"Something about them offend you?" he asks, wrapping his fingers around himself and slowly stroking up and down.

"I want to admire your legs." I lean in and brush a kiss against the inside of his knee, then higher.

His body trembles as I slowly kiss my way to him. He's watching me with an unreadable expression that makes my stomach lurch.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask. He kissed and teased my legs and I loved it. Maybe men don't like that.

"Not at all." He reaches for me. "Come here."

"But." I tease the tip of my tongue against the head of his cock. "I'm right here and you're?—"

"Not like this. Come here," he says in a firmer tone.

"But I thought that's what men prefer."

He squeezes his eyes closed for a second. "Some do. I don't. I told you you'll have to ask…communicate. . .come here ." Frustration burns through his command.

I take his hand and he yanks me up and into his arms. Unable to help myself, I wrap my hand around his cock, stroking him.

He sucks in a quick breath and maneuvers us toward the bed. Dropping down on the edge, he leans over and grabs one of my pillows, tossing it on the floor at his feet.

I kneel on it and look him in the eye. "Is this better?"

He grabs my face and smashes his lips to mine, kissing me deeply before breaking away. "Yes. I needed to kiss you."

"Oh." Heat fans across my skin.

I shuffle closer, my breasts grazing his thighs. He leans back on his hands and lifts his chin. I'm distracted by his ab muscles rippling as he casually waits.

"Go ahead. I'll give you instructions as needed."

"Hmmm." I wrap my hands around him. "But I requested formal training, Professor Orgasm."

He lets out a low, rough laugh. "What?"

"You heard me." I increase the pressure and he hisses.

"Use your tongue," he urges.

"Where?" I sneak down and tease the tip of my tongue against his thigh. "Here?" I dart a quick lick against his other one.

His stomach muscles flex and ripple as he struggles between laughing and panting. "No."

I catch his eye and stick my tongue out, taking a long, slow, deliberate lick along the underside of his cock, from root to tip.

"Oh, fuck," he groans and closes his eyes.

"Here?" I ask innocently.

His eyes slowly open and he stares down at me. "Now you've got it."

I tease my tongue over him again, then suck him into my mouth.

"Yes," he groans and rests one hand on my shoulder. "That's my girl."

Encouraged, I take more and more of him, until I cough and gag, then retreat.

"Easy." He reaches for my breast, teasing and lightly pinching my nipple.

I alternate between sucking and licking. Taking as much of him as I can then only concentrating on the head of his cock and the very sensitive spot at the tip. His shaky breathing and rocking hips give me all the instruction I need.

He snakes his other arm between us and kneads my breasts. Bolts of pleasure dance from my nipples to my clit. Between his attention to my body and his whispered affirmations of "just like that" and "good girl" my body's humming with need.

I slip one hand between my legs and touch myself.

"Fuck yes," he whispers excitedly. "Play with your clit for me. Do you like sucking my cock?"

I try to nod but end up whimpering something I hope he understands as very much.

His body pulls tight and his hips move faster. Is he close? A flutter of nerves skitters over me. I don't want to choke if he comes in my mouth. Suddenly, that's all I can think about. My hand between my legs stops moving. The one on his cock slows.

"Keep rubbing your clit," he whispers urgently. "Make yourself come for me. Please."

Oh my God , how does please sound like a demand coming from his mouth? Now I have to do what he asks.

"Good girl." He plumps my breasts and presses them together. "I love your fucking breasts. So beautiful. Will you let me come on them?"

My eyes pop open.

"Yeah." He nods quickly, his face flushed, eyes feral with need. "Come closer. Give me those tits."

A hot shock of desire drowns out all sound for a moment. I swirl my tongue down his length once more, then release him and press myself closer.

"Ah, fuck." He squeezes my breasts together as hot semen splashes against my skin. He uses one hand to guide himself and ends up painting more than my chest with his release.

Unsure of what to do, I brace my hands on his knees, so we're at least connected in some way.

"Are you okay?" he asks, brushing my hair off my shoulder.

My heart's pounding wildly and I'm a little in shock. Satisfaction drowns out my surprise, when I see the content smile on his lips.

I did that.

I made him lose control. I flick a glance down at my cum-coated skin.

"I'm fine."

"Look at the mess I made of you." He brushes his knuckles against my chin. "Thank you." He leans down and kisses my forehead. "Let me clean you up."

He stands, then helps me off the pillow. "You made my legs all shaky, woman," he teases.

"I did?"

"You see anyone else around? Come here." He slides an arm behind my back and one under my legs and scoops me into his arms.

"What are you doing?" I squeal, flapping my hands in the air as he cradles me to his chest. "You can't carry me."

He snorts like he's insulted. "Margot, I lift heavier things than you in the gym every day."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," he says in a mocking tone as he carries me out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the bathroom.

He sets me on the tile and grabs a towel, quickly wiping most of the mess from my chest and stomach.

"Come on." He slips his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close to his side. I push the shower door open. After he studies the complicated faucet system I had installed, he flips and twists the nozzles. "Fancy setup," he says.

"I like my showers long and hot." I poke him in the side. "Like my men."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Yeah, how many men you let in that shower?"

That erases the smile from my lips. "You'll be the first."

"I'm honored." He leans down and presses his lips to mine. "Thank you."

He backs up to the wall and sticks his hand under the spray. "It's getting there." After stepping into the shower, he holds out his hand to me. "Come on."

My skin's barely wet when he leans down and kisses me. As he pulls away, I sigh.

"Was that…good?" I risk looking up at him. "Did I do it right?"

He clenches his jaw tight and turns his head toward my built-in shelf full of hair and bath products. As if he needs a moment to compose himself.

After studying the products for a few seconds, he picks up a purple bottle of black orchid and patchouli bodywash and clicks the cap open. He sniffs it, then pours a generous amount in his hand. "Little lady death, you're killing me."

With his eyes focused on my chest, he slides his foamy hands over my skin. "You're covered in my cum from neck to nipples, and you're still asking me if you gave me a good blow job?"

His low voice echoes in the shower all around me.

I don't have an answer.

"Yes, you blew my fucking mind. Literally." He tweaks one nipple.

Laughter bubbles out of me. "I can't help it."

Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turns me to face one of the shower heads, set at a height to hit my body. Once he's rinsed me clean, he bands one arm under my breasts and slides his free hand over my stomach.

"I don't think you came, though," he whispers against my ear.

"I was close," I admit.

He releases a growly sound of approval that rumbles against my back. "You liked sucking my cock?"

I tip my head back so I can see his face. "Yes."

His hand slides between my thighs. "Spread your legs for me."

Carefully, I inch my feet apart.

My body jolts as his fingers sweep over my clit. He slowly starts working them in a quick, focused circle. "You were so good," he rasps. "I didn't get to slide my dick between your beautiful tits the way I wanted."

"Oh," I squeak.

"Yup, that's gonna be another lesson," he murmurs, continuing the relentless grinding in just the right spot. "You're really close, aren't you?"

I grip the arm holding me with both hands and lean against him.

"That's it. Close your eyes." He somehow knows better than I do the exact pressure and pattern to use on my body. Within minutes, I'm shaking and close to shattering. "Let go," he urges.

A sharp scream rips from my throat as bolts of pleasure spark throughout my body. My eyes snap open. "Jensen."

His dark eyes glitter with longing. "I've got you."

When I can breathe again, he's watching me with a slight tilt to his lips.

"Thanks." I let out a nervous laugh, suddenly self-conscious again.

"My pleasure." He reaches behind me and a sharp sting cracks against my butt.

Laughing, I fall forward, sliding against his slick skin. "Hey!"

"Go ahead and dry off. I'll be out in a minute," he says.

"Okay. I'll get a towel for you."

"Thanks."

I slide the door open and step onto my bath mat. My regular towel's on a hook by the shower and I wrap it around myself. On my way to my laundry room/linen closet, I snag the hand towel off the floor.

When I return, he's still in the shower.

"Leaving a towel on the hook right outside," I call out.

"Okay!"

Still tingling from my first shower orgasm, I head to my room to get dressed.

Is he going to stay this time? Do I want him to? Are we going to do more tonight?

In my bedroom, I pick up his clothes from the floor and set them on the bed. I wander into my closet, searching for something sexier than a T-shirt and shorts to sleep in. In a basket on a shelf, I find a sleep set I bought on a whim a few years ago. Tiny white shorts dotted with blue flowers. It has ruffles on the legs and a matching tank top that buttons halfway down. It always seems too impractical to sleep in but it's the cutest thing I have, so I slip it on, pleased it's a little looser on me than when I bought it.

"Margot?" The closet door opens wider, light spilling in from the bedroom. "Oh shit. What is this?"

"My closet." I pick up the basket and put it back on the shelf.

"This house is wild," he says as I snap off the light and close the door behind me.

"Did you ever hear about the Winchester house?"

"The mystery house in San Jose? Yeah. Rooster and I talked his aunt into taking us there for Halloween one year."

"You're kidding!" I squeal. "I'm so jealous. When I was growing up, I thought this house was like that." I wave my hands around. "Because it seemed like every time I went exploring, I found something new. And it was part business, part private home, you know?"

"Yeah, that must've been weird."

With disappointment, I notice he's put his shorts and shirt back on. "I was hoping to study your eight-pack abs one of these lessons, you know."

His lips curl in a tight smile. "I don't want to distract you from getting some sleep."

"Does that mean you're staying?"

"Yeah. That all right?"

"Sure." I turn my head and give him a sly smile. "I hope you like cold pizza for breakfast."

"Love it." He chuckles.

"Let me go do my rounds."

"Rounds?"

"Check on Gretel. Make sure the door is locked. That kind of stuff."

"Have at it." He picks up his phone. "Going to set my alarm."

My rounds are quick tonight. Gretel's curled up on top of her cat perch in the next room and barely glances at me as I pop in to check on her. I put the rest of the food in the fridge, and the dishes in the sink.

Jigsaw's tucked into the side closest to the door when I return. His big frame looks awfully good taking up so much space in my bed. I close the bedroom door and turn off the lights.

"How do you know that's not my side?" I tease as I walk around to the other edge of the bed.

"Maybe I wanted you to crawl over me." He flips the covers back and I climb in, kneeling beside him.

His gaze travels over me, lingering on my chest then skips lower. He reaches over and slides his hand along my thigh. "This is cute." His hand travels higher, under the leg of my shorts. "Like these a lot."

"Well, I'm glad I found them, then." I stretch out beside him and pull the covers up.

"Come here." He holds out his arm and I eagerly scoot closer, resting my head on his chest.

For a while, I bask in the happiness of having him actually stay. Listening to his breathing and the slow, steady rhythm of his heart.

"You still awake?" Jigsaw's low rumble pulls me from the well of contentment I'd been drifting toward.

"Sort of."

He hugs me to his chest. "I gotta tell you something."

I knew it. I knew something would ruin this moment. Fully awake now, I press my hand to his chest and sit up. "What?"

"Nothing bad. Well, that depends on your perspective, I guess."

"We're done with our lessons?"

A sharp frown creases his brow and he almost seems…disappointed?

"No." He pulls me down next to him again but I keep some distance so I can see his face. "I'm going to be away for a week or two. The whole club's going to be away, actually. Well, except Teller. So if you need something, call him. He's sticking around because his wife's going to give birth to those twins any day now."

"Awww." My stomach flutters. "How sweet. Are they excited?"

"Yeah, I think so. Teller's more…anxious. Constantly fussing over Charlotte."

"I can understand that. She must be so uncomfortable. Then when they get here, twins will be a handful. Do they have help?"

He snorts, his lips curling into an affectionate smile. "Yeah, whole club will be helping them out. Probably won't leave them alone. Grinder and Serena have had Lilly at their house practically every day since baby Lincoln got here."

"That's really sweet."

He lifts one shoulder.

I bite my lip, hesitating before I tentatively rub my hand over his chest. "So, what's this big club trip for?"

"Uh, the old president of another charter passed away." He shifts his gaze, as if the topic weighs heavily on him. "He'd been a member for a long time."

Working in the death business hasn't made me immune to grief yet and sympathy tugs on me. "I'm so sorry."

Jigsaw doesn't offer any stories about the man, or even his name. The silence that follows suggests this visit is more about club protocol than true mourning.

My concern grows and my hand rubs faster against his shirt. "Will you be safe?"

He studies me with an intensity that quickens my pulse. "Yeah. Dex and I mapped out our route. It'll be a couple of days of long, hard riding but it'll be good for the club to be out on the road together. We're meeting up with our Virginia charter, so we'll get to catch up with those guys too."

Just how many charters of his club are there? All the googling in the world wouldn't provide those kinds of details about the Lost Kings MC. "Are your…the ol' ladies of the club going too?"

"No." He shakes his head, his expression turning serious. "Lot of different clubs and some tension in that area. Everyone thought it was safer to have them stay home."

"So, you came over to give me one last lesson before you hit the road?" I try to keep my tone light, but fear that we're done drags my voice down.

"Not at all." He rests his hand over mine, stopping my restless movements. "I'll be back. I'm not planning to stay and party. Just paying my respects and coming home as soon as my prez gives me the all-clear. Dex will want to get home to see his girl, too, so I'll probably end up riding back with him."

My breath catches. Does he realize what he just said? Dex will want to see his girl too . Does that mean Jigsaw considers me his girl that he'd want to hurry home to see?

I swallow hard, the question dancing on the tip of my tongue. No, do not ask him that . Not after the way I seemed to spook him last time.

Instead, I snuggle closer. "I'll miss you." The words slip out before I can stop them.

The hand over mine travels up my arm, his touch firm and reassuring. "I'll miss you too," he rasps, like he's admitting something he isn't ready to say.

Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness again, even though my mind's racing with my plans for the next few weeks. It feels more urgent to make my move now.

"I'll be back before you know it," he whispers, breaking the silence.

"We'll continue our lessons, right?" I ask, hating the pathetic hopefulness in my voice.

His body stills and he's silent for a beat too long. "Yeah," he answers slowly, his tone now smooth and casual. "We'll pick up where we left off."

"Was this lesson two-b? Or lesson three?"

He lets out a rough laugh. "I don't fucking know."

Doubt coils around my heart. I should've kept that question to myself. He leans over and presses a quick kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment like he's inhaling me. "Get some sleep."

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