She pushed him against the wall. “I don’t need to talk or to rehash what happened. I need you to fuck me. Right now.” He didn’t move, didn’t try to fight her. Even kissed her back when she crushed his mouth with hers, wrapped her in his arms. But nothing more.
It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. He was giving her the power back. Not that she’d lost it. She hadn’t wavered, hadn’t lost anything she needed to survive.
She kissed him again. Harder. More desperate. Worked his dick until he groaned and slapped his hand flat against the wall and panted.
“Tell me what you want, Fiona.”
Ah. There he was.
She lifted his hand and put it on her breast. Oh, God. He rolled her nipple between his fingers and her body went weak. She’d missed him. With his free hand, he lifted her knee to his hip and held it, pumping his cock into her hand. “Put me inside you.” he lowered his head and took her breast in his mouth, teased and soothed, sucked and kissed.
From that moment on, she lost herself in Grier.
Finally. He’d spent weeks dreaming of being inside her again, of feeling her against him, hearing her soft moans, watching her eyelids flutter when she was close to letting go. And for weeks, he’d held back, gave her space. And it almost killed him.
Now, he was so close, ready to plunge his dick inside her and he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk hurting her.
“Come on, baby.” She stroked him, pulling and squeezing his cock until he couldn’t think rationally, didn’t want to remember she’d been through something horrible and needed the soft, sweetness of making love rather than the frenzy of fucking.
He needed to make this about her, slow it down, worship her to counteract the horrors they’d inflicted on her.
“Fiona.” He kissed her neck, her nipple, her stomach, and finally knelt in front of her and pushed her leg up to rest on his shoulder. She threw her head back and cried out and he kissed her clit, then licked and sucked until she threaded her fingers through his hair and screamed his name.
When her trembling stopped, he moved back and for the first time, he saw it, the puckered flesh on her thigh. Another brand.
Fuck. He closed his eyes and she covered the spot with her hand. “Don’t look.” Her breath hitched and her shoulders shook.
Oh, God. What she’d gone through. And he hadn’t saved her from any of it. Fuck!
He stood and pulled her close, shut the water off and wrapped them in a towel while she continued crying.
“Hey.” But she shook her head. So, he held her until they were both dry then he dropped the towel and swung her into his arms. Rage burned through him along with a need to avenge the wrongs perpetrated on his wife. His wife. But right now, she needed him. And by God, he wouldn’t let her down again.
He laid her on the bed and slid under the blankets beside her.
He’d missed her skin, the silky feel of it, the slightly sweet taste, the scent that belonged to just her. “Please, Grier.” She rubbed her body against his and it didn’t take a genius to know what she was asking.
Need and want mingled in his gut, and he kissed her, soft at first, slow and deep. His body throbbed with desire and she ground her hips against his cock and a whimper vibrated in her throat.
Grier wanted to go slow, to caress every inch of her, but Fiona shoved him onto his back and rolled until she was on top, then sat up to lower herself onto his dick, taking him one slow inch at a time, teasing him with her slick wet pussy and those fingertips, tweaking his nipples, sliding down his gut, to touch herself.
So hot. So fucking perfect. She arched her back, set the rhythm, slow and seductive, and waited until he was so close to shooting a load inside her before she called out his name and moved with such urgency he exploded.
When she collapsed onto his chest, chest heaving, body trembling, Grier kissed the top of her head and squeezed her closer. “I love you.” Maybe she wasn’t ready to hear the words, but he needed to say them.
And he tried not to be hurt that she didn’t say it back to him. Instead, he tilted her chin up for a kiss. But now that he wasn’t inside her anymore and his thoughts cleared, the fury came back, roared through his blood. They’d branded her. Twice. Branded. Like property.
His body tensed. And Fiona noticed, lifted her head. “Hey.”
Grier couldn’t speak, couldn’t even look at her. He’d failed her. His fault. His fault. His fault. He should’ve been on that plane with her instead of playing outlaw with a motorcycle club that he’d led into trap after trap. And they’d branded her.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice broke and tears leaked down his cheeks. He was lying next to her crying like a baby, letting her console him. It took a minute before he could speak. “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”
She smoothed his hair back. “It’s done with. I’m fine and London is fine and we’re safe now.”
Her words registered on his too-late-for-words level. She’d be safe for the rest of her life and he’d make sure.
“I’m going back and I’m going to find him.” And burn him alive.
“No.” She shook her head. “You can’t. It’s not safe.” Her defeated sigh shook him. “Let the club handle him. Let them worry. We have this now. A place he can’t get to us. We have each other.”
“Fiona.”
She pushed him off and sat up. “When he had me, all I could think about was getting back to you, being safe with you. It—you got me through that. I don’t need him dead.” She cupped Grier’s cheek. “I thought I did, but then I saw you and knew I didn’t need anything but you. I can survive what happened, but I won’t survive losing you.”
The words should have calmed his rage, but only inflamed him further. “And you think he’ll get to me first?” Of course she did. Why wouldn’t she? Nothing he’d done would have convinced her otherwise, but this wasn’t about the club. This was about his family, the only one he’d ever had outside of Kye.
“No. But he’s unpredictable, and I don’t want to take a chance on a stray bullet or… anything else. You’re mine now, and I want to keep what’s mine close to me.”
Goddammit. The wet-lashed plea. The silent don’t-let-me-down look. The irresistible weapons she had in her arsenal. “Fiona, as long as he’s out there, this is your prison. You’ll never be safe outside of these gates. And maybe not inside. London will never be safe. I have to go. This has to end so we can live our lives.”
“Do I look unhappy here? This was my idea. My picket fence, Grier. I don’t give a damn about going back to Pine Hill. There’s nothing there for us.”
Max would be rolling in his grave if he heard her now. He’d left her everything he had, everything he’d built, and Grier had ruined it for her. Made her not want it. Destroyed everything. Fuck.
“Fiona, I have to go back. We won’t have peace anywhere until we don’t have to worry about him anymore, until we don’t have to look over our shoulders.” The threat would remain as long as Sedotal was breathing and Grier refused to let his family live that way.
She sighed. “If you go, I’m going with you.”