Savage Road (Torpedo Ink 7) - Page 109

Her fingers came up to dash at the tears still streaming down her face. Her hand was trembling so much he wanted to capture her hand in his and hold it still, but he didn’t move, afraid of ruining the little progress they’d made.

“Savin.” She whispered his name.

The moment she said his name out loud, even though it was a mere thread of sound, barely heard, the fear receded almost completely to leave mostly confusion. Her lashes fluttered more. The teal blue stared into his eyes.

“That’s right, Seychelle. Keep looking at me. Keep seeing me.” He inched closer. An inch. No more. Testing the waters. She didn’t flinch away from him, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She recognized him. Knew who he was.

“I see you,” she acknowledged, sounding hesitant. Her gaze didn’t waver from his. She looked more confused than ever, but she didn’t move away from him when he edged closer.

He took advantage, even from his crouched position, gliding right into her, pulling her into his arms, cradling her into his chest and rising into a standing position to carry her to one of the camp chairs he had placed beside the firepit. The fire had died down to embers, but that didn’t matter to him. He settled into the chair, cradling Seychelle in his lap. She had never, not one time, used her safe word. Not during all the things they’d done together. She hadn’t appeared to even come close. She might have thought about it, but she hadn’t even formed the word.

Now? At the thought of sucking his cock? She’d bought a how-to book on the subject. She’d even discussed it with Shari, the bane of his life. He thought it would make her happy. Of all the things he could think of to do, new and different for her, on the run, he thought they might make a little instructional video of their own. Nothing like what he’d ever done with any other woman, just theirs alone, the two of them. Shit. He’d thought she’d fucking like it.

He tightened his arms around her, rocking her gently, one palm to the back of her head, holding her so her face was buried against his chest, muffling her sobs. They were genuine. Heartbreaking. What the hell? She was crying all over again. This had nothing to do with her spanking.

“Fuck, baby, you have to talk to me. I thought this was something you wanted to do. You never have to do this for me. Never. There’s a million other things we can do we’d both enjoy.” He kept rocking her. Something had been off since the night before they left. They’d talked about her sucking his cock then too. Then he’d been thinking about something similar when she’d gotten so upset as they were walking toward the campsite earlier.

“Angel, you don’t think I’d ever risk losing you again to have someone else give me a fucking blow job, do you?” He caught her hair in his fist and very gently tugged to try to get her to lift her head so he could see her eyes without being rough. “You’re going to have to look at me sometime, Seychelle. We have to talk about this.”

He needed to just shut the hell up and let her cry it out. She’d talk to him when she was able to. He was a fixer with her. He wanted to make everything better, and he definitely didn’t want Seychelle running from him—not here, not when they were surrounded by so many other clubs. He didn’t want her ever feeling insecure about their relationship. He thought they were past that. Bog, he fucking hoped they were past that.

Savage tightened his arms around her and kept rocking, dropping his chin on top of her silky hair and letting her cry herself out. It took a good fifteen minutes before she managed to get control and then another five before she found the courage to lift her gaze to his again.

“I’m sorry, Savage. I don’t know what got into me.”

He bent his head to sip at the tears on her face, following the trail to the corner of her mouth before he pressed a gentle kiss on the trembling curve of her lips. He brushed caresses back and forth, taking his time, letting her know he wasn’t in the least upset with her and they had all the time in the world. When he lifted his head, he casually reached for his jacket, the one lying just at fingertips’ reach on the table, and pulled it to him so he could wrap it around her shoulders and back, enveloping her completely.

“Take your time, Seychelle. Nothing you feel is wrong. There’s nothing wrong between us. You give me everything and more. This is a little glitch.”

Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance
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