“You know what, I’m sick of this. Romy gets you in her grabby fucking hands for a matter of hours and you listen to all the spiteful shit she has to say, and what do I get, nothing? This is fucking bullshit.”
“You don’t even touch me.”
“I’ll have you know I’ve licked your pussy a couple of times, lovely, and I have no problem being with you. You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he asked.
“What?”
“I’m waiting for you to be comfortable being here. I’m used to women throwing themselves at me and all of the club. Women who are happy to be passed around on cock. Some of them even consider it a trophy, depending on the number of us she fucks.” He held her hands a little tighter, wanting her to know he wanted her. “When I’m around you, I have to control myself, Beth. I have to stop myself from tearing off your clothes and fucking you every chance I get. I want to be balls deep inside you. To feel your tight virgin cunt gripping me as I plow into you. That’s how strong I feel. That’s how much I want you. I can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel to be wrapped around my dick. I want to sleep on your tits. In fact, I want to sleep inside you with my cum dripping down. I want it all with you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Her words were so faint, and her fire had been doused. He finally had her damn attention.
He stood up and placed her hand on his already stiffening cock. All it had taken were words and imagining being inside her to grow hard. “That’s how you make me feel. I have to control myself, and it’s not easy. I want to be in you so bad, but I’m not going to hurt you. When I do finally take your cherry, you’re going to be soaking wet. It will hurt, but I want you to want it, Beth. When I tear through you, and I want you begging me for more, and hungry for it all.”
“They said I was too much cushion. You could never want someone like me because of who I was.”
He kissed her hands. Romy was going to pay for all the doubt and pain she’d put in his woman. There was no fucking way he would let that kind of crap stand.
“I was never meant to be Romy’s. She was nothing more than a club whore, and I haven’t fucked her in a long time. Longer than before you turned up. Believe me, I don’t want her. I don’t care for her. She means nothing to me. The only woman I want and have ever cared about is you. I wanted to hurt everyone I came across when I knew you were missing. I thought you’d ran away.”
He had to admit that other things had run deep in his thoughts. Trust had never come naturally for him, and part of him wondered if the entire deal with Peterson trading Beth for his debt was real or a ploy. In moments of weakness, he doubted Beth, then he’d feel like an asshole.
“Why would I run away?”
“Your father gave you to me. You’re not supposed to be mine, Beth. You’re supposed to be someone else’s.”
He was trying to build up her fucking confidence, but where was his? Forge was an MC Prez, and this slip of a woman was making him doubt everything. Was she using him? Was all of this too good to be true?
“I do want to be with you. All the time. I don’t want this to stop.” She pressed her head against him. “I’m so sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“All of this. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to get taken. I wasn’t thinking. I was walking, enjoying the day, and then I heard something. The kitten,” she said, gasping.
“Kitten?”
“Can we go and make sure it’s okay?”
“You want to go and save a kitten?”
“I don’t know if it’s there, but I did hear it. Please?” she asked.
He couldn’t deny her anything. This was one of the reasons he could never give her up. The woman had been taken from him, beaten, and yet she still wanted to go and rescue a damn kitten.
Chapter Eight
Beth twirled her damp hair up into a makeshift bun then tried to examine her neck in the bathroom mirror. She ran her hand across the steamy glass to get a better look. The bruises were practically gone, only a faint reminder of her run-in with Forge’s enemies. She never wanted to remember that day. Not because of the physical abuse, but for the emotional trip they’d put her through. It took a lot of hard convincing by Forge for her to snap out of her doldrums.
He’d been gone most of the day, taking care of important business with Dog and Hound. She never asked too many questions, but she knew when things were serious. The tension in the air before they left had her worried—until now. The collective roar of motorcycle engines filled the air, and her heart began to race in excitement. Knowing Forge was home sent a thrill cascading through her body. She took a deep breath and quickly threw on a t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts.
Beth rushed over to the window and looked down as the bikes pulled in, dispersing to the left and right after entering the gates. She scanned the men for Forge. As soon as he dismounted his bike and reached up to run a hand through his hair, she knew it was him before she even saw his face. His shoulders were impossibly broad. His height, his thick dark hair, and the way he carried himself with confidence left no room for denial. It was Forge.
As if sensing her watching, he turned slightly, looked up, and winked. Her heart melted. Attention from Forge was addicting. He was the most sought-after male in the club, the prez … and he wanted only her. She wasn’t sure why, but she wasn’t going to complain.
It felt like hours before he finally turned the handle of the bedroom, but she knew it was much less. She held her breath.
“You showered?”
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