You couldn’t be a part of an MC family without having some grit. It wasn’t all status and titles. If you were going to be a motorcycle club princess, you had to back it up with some lady balls. And since I was a Calley, I pretty much had that covered. But occasionally the men around me forgot I could hold my own and they needed reminding.
Like right now.
“It was nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“How can you say that? Do you know what these guys are capable of? Anything could have happened to you. Anything. Do you know what that does to me? You should’ve told me and I would’ve come home.”
“And done what?”
“Break every bone in his body before I put him in the ground.”
“It got handled.”
My response seemed to fuel his anger rather than dampen it.
“No, it wasn’t handled because that piece of shit is still walking around!” He gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. “Granted, he’s missing several fingers, but he’s still breathing.”
Right. So Bull took the asshole’s fingers, good to know.
“He touched you. Do you know what that makes me want to do to him?”
I’d be lying if I said the look on his face didn’t turn me on.
That the emotion on his face didn’t make me wet.
That the way his chest heaved with the anger possessing him made me throb with need.
Finally, his mood began to thaw. “Baby, the idea of him touching you…”
I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
What was done, was done.
In the distance I could hear the sound of fire engines. Coupled with the faint acrid aroma of petrol coming off Ruger’s cut, I wondered where he had just come from, and if he was responsible for whatever the fire engines were traveling to.
I slid his cut from him, and although his anger still lingered in him, he put up little resistance when I led him to the bathroom and peeled the rest of his clothes off his body.
Pushing him into the shower, I stood back and let my clothes drop to the floor. Heat and lust flared in his eyes, and his impressive cock thickened and swayed as he watched me.
Inside the shower cubicle, I lathered up his body, wiping the soapy sponge up his strong legs, over his powerful thighs, and up to his hard cock. He flinched, and water dripped from his parted lips as his breathing quickened.
Inspired, I brushed my fingers across the thick column of flesh on my way up to his pelvis and enjoyed the thrill when he shivered beneath my touch.
Next, I soaped up his abs and his rock-hard chest, before I stood behind him and washed his broad shoulders and down his muscular back.
When I was done, he returned the favor and soaped up my body, his big hands sliding the bubbles across my skin with infinite tenderness. He was gentle. Loving. And in the silence, I could feel his desperation and torture, and knew it was because he was terrified of losing me.
“Ruger…” I breathed his name. But he cut me off. He caught me by the nape of my neck and drew me to his mouth. His kiss was slow and full of emotion, and his powerful body trembled. When he pulled away, he dropped his forehead to mine.
“I love you,” he said, and I could see the torment in his eyes. He was still angry but it was nothing compared to what he felt for me. “Please don’t keep anything from me again.”
“I won’t.”
His thumbs brushed my cheek. “You’re my queen. Trust me when I tell you that.”
After our shower, he led me over to the bed where he made love to me slowly. It was excruciatingly exquisite, every movement deep, every breath hot, every brush of our lips purposeful and full of promise. We spent hours lost in one another. Our mutual cries of pleasure filling the air around us and thrusting us further into a realm of pleasure where only he and I existed.
Sometime near midnight, I collapsed, throbbing and exhausted, on the bed, and he fell behind me, wrapping me in his big arms and cocooning me in his warmth.
I sighed with utter contentment.
This man.
He was everything.
And it was about time everyone knew.
Ruger left early the next day and I had a shift at Wax-It in the morning, followed by a get together with Cassidy and the rest of the bridesmaids, so I didn’t see him until I arrived at his house later that evening.
When I walked in, he was removing two beers from the refrigerator. He was dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers, and the sight of his hard-muscled torso lit fires all over me.
When he saw me, he swept me up in his arms and kissed me.
“Already stripped down to your boxers, I see,” I joked between kisses.