Most of the members had drifted off, leaving only Destroyer and Maestro drinking beer with him while he trimmed the branch into a perfect switch. Once he had that ready, he set the scene he wanted, pulling out the few tools he would need if Seychelle was up for his kind of kinky needs, then he went to her with a cup of coffee in his hands, the to-go mug with a lid that she particularly liked. “You’re waking up for me, baby.”
It took a couple of moments of calling to her before she blinked up at him as she sat up, pushing at her hair. “You’re back.” A slow smile of welcome lit her face. Her eyes.
His stomach performed that slow somersault he was used to now. “Have dinner ready for you, Seychelle. Did you see any of my text messages?” He’d given her a few instructions just in case she was up for a night of dirty, sinful lessons.
Her blue gaze clung to his. “I must have fallen asleep. I’m sorry, babe. I should have stayed awake just in case you needed me earlier.” She picked up her phone where it was lying on the sleeping bag beside her.
“It’s no big deal, angel. Czar told me you worked on those women all day, even though I told you not to do it without me.” He didn’t bother to sound stern. It wouldn’t make a difference. She’d already done it.
Her lashes fluttered, and a small smile curved her mouth, that mouth that drove him crazy if he thought about it too much. He hadn’t yet taught her to suck his cock, but that was supposed to be one of those sinful, dirty lessons he had in mind for their camping trip. Now he was probably going to take that off the table.
The moment she turned on her phone it began to ding, over and over. All the text messages he’d sent her. She stared down at them, a flush spreading over her beautiful skin. Her gaze slid from him to the lingering members of Torpedo Ink. Two were still at the table, finishing their beers. He knew they would be gone by the time he walked her back from the restroom. He’d made it clear he needed to be alone with his woman.
“I’ll walk you to the ladies’ room. Grab whatever you need for the night.” He was giving her a choice. She didn’t want to play, she didn’t have to. He would be in bad shape until they got home, which would make life rough for both of them, maybe even the other members of Torpedo Ink, but that was just too damn bad. He wasn’t going to push anything on her, not after what happened the night before.
She stuffed items into a small bag and then sipped at the coffee as they walked the short distance to the restrooms. Music blared and again, as the night before, laughter and conversations were loud. He didn’t try to talk, he just stayed close to her. She would know soon enough that he had done what he needed to do for the club. He’d tell her while she ate, just not the details. He had to; she’d likely catch them anyway when he had his hands and mouth and cock all over and in her.
She came out of the restroom dressed in one of her favorite pairs of denims, very old, the kind that buttoned up rather than zipped, and a tank, with just a cardigan over it. She was still resisting wearing the club colors he’d provided for her. She would be wearing them the next day, she just didn’t know it. At least she was wearing his fucking ring on her finger.
They had to walk through the outer circle of the Torpedo Ink campground made up of the Trinity chapter. There was a lot of activity. They knew how to party. Seychelle got her first taste of an authentic Torpedo Ink party, with couples not paying any attention to their surroundings. She tried not to stare at the naked bodies, the women dancing around the firelight, or the men drinking whiskey out of a bottle, stroking themselves in anticipation while they watched the dancing.
Savage kept her walking straight through to their campsite. He was happy to see that his brothers had taken the hint and left. “You hungry, baby?” He pulled a fresh, cold beer from the cooler and offered her one.
She shook her head. “I ate earlier, before I fell asleep. Water is fine for me.”
“You insisted on helping those women without me being around. Czar told me a couple of them had a few illnesses. You were lucky no one was really sick. We talked about that, and when I texted you, you just didn’t bother to answer me.”
She shrugged, not looking in the least bit remorseful, but he knew she wouldn’t. He went to his favorite spot to sit on the top of the picnic table. She wedged herself between his thighs and reached up to stroke his jaw. “You’re having a difficult time, aren’t you, Savage? Was it bad today? I’m sorry I fell asleep.”
Bog. Every time he thought it was impossible to love her any more, she overwhelmed him. Swamped him. She saw him. Stripped him naked. “Yeah, babe, it was bad. Shitty work. I don’t know who wants to kill so many people, but I suspect Brandon is behind it. I just couldn’t get the confirmation, and I tried. I suspect Tawny and Brandon are conspiring together, but they had to go to someone else to get the money to fund that many hits.”
She moistened her lips. “You had to interrogate them?” She swallowed hard and lifted her lashes so her blue eyes met his. Compassion. Sadness. A little bit of fear. “It was bad.”
“Any time I have to question people and they don’t want to give me the answers I need, it gets ugly, baby. I don’t want you to ever see how ugly.”
Her fingers stroked his jaw. “I’m sorry, Savage. I’m especially sorry I wasn’t awake when you needed me. I could have at least answered your text. I know that helps you a little. I’m here for you now.”
His heart jumped. His cock jerked. She was offering herself to him. Her body. Her gaze didn’t waver from his, not even when he pushed her sweater from her shoulders and helped her take it from her arms. The cool night air showed him she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples turned to two tight pebbles, pressing hard into the thin, pale pink tank. He stepped off the table so he was close, so he could put his arms around her. Hold her. Support her. Let her lean on him while she fully made her decision—hopefully in his favor.
“You sure you’re up for this, baby?” Even as he asked her, giving her the choice, Savage’s long fingers caressed her breast and then found her nipple, tugging and rolling. She leaned into him, thrusting her breasts forward for his attention. He pinched. Hard. She gasped. He pushed the tank up, letting the dancing flames from the fire show him her skin. He loved her skin so much. He ran his palm over that soft, perfect canvas. Unmarred. Flawless. He could decorate it so beautifully.
His hand slipped to her face, cupped one side, his thumb sliding gently over that beloved mouth. Her lips. That tender expression of such love only she ever gave him. Only Seychelle ever felt for him. He kissed her. Gently. Trying to show her he loved her. Telling her she was his world, pouring that truth down her throat and into her body to give her the courage she would need to face the monster raging in him if she consented. When he lifted his head, he stared down into her eyes, letting her see the blue flames there, the dark, ugly flames that burned with need.
“Yes,” she said simply. “I came here for you, Savage, and you need me.”
“I’m not at my worst, but I do need you,” he admitted. “I’ve thought a lot about what we could do here without breaking our rules but still bleed off some of my needs.” He cupped the weight of her breasts in his palms, thumbs strumming her hard nipples, watching her shiver in response, watching her eyes darken to a deep blue of pure desire.