“Talk to me about why you’re hesitant to have sex with me on the run or at parties, the way we both need it.”
Seychelle closed her eyes. His voice got her right in the heart. Maybe the soul. He took her over. “It’s private. For us. It’s the way we show love for one another. If we give that to them, it isn’t special between us anymore. What we do together feels so intimate. If we have others around us, it might feel sexy in that moment, but it takes away from our intimacy.”
He was silent, and she liked that he listened and was thinking about what she said. Savage never just dismissed her concerns. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He had said he would listen to her, and he did.
“Shit,” he finally said softly. “You’re right, baby.” He finished rubbing the lotion into her legs and then put it on the end table before sliding into bed beside her.
She was used to the feel of his body, but for some reason, this time when he wound his body around hers, he felt like a shield. A hard covering that totally surrounded her. Pure protection. She’d never had that before in her entire life. She’d been the one to protect her parents when they were too weak to do much more than walk around their home. He wrapped his arm around her waist and put his chin on her shoulder, his warm breath in her ear.
“We can both live without sex at the parties, Seychelle. It’s worth it in order to keep what we have.”
The sincerity in his voice turned her heart over. Could she love him any more? Each time she thought she couldn’t, he proved her wrong. She also heard something else. A note of caution. He was worried. It had nothing to do with the parties. He could live without sex for a night or two, or even come up with something fun for the two of them to do that would work. She knew he could. It was the run he was concerned about.
“Bad things are going to happen on the run, aren’t they, Savage?”
He shrugged. “It’s entirely possible, angel. Probable.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That was why he needed to change the rules. He expected to need to have sex with her on the run to drain off some of the rage that would build up in him.
“How are we going to cope with your needs, Savage?”
“We’ll figure it out, baby,” he answered. “We’re both intelligent, and we have time.” He nuzzled her neck and then kissed her. “Tomorrow we can move all your things in. Put your house up for sale.”
She stiffened. She couldn’t help it, even knowing he would feel it. Half turning toward him, she shook her head decisively. “Absolutely not. I’m not selling my house. I’m not.”
“You don’t like this one?”
“I love this house, Savage, but I’m not there yet. I can’t give up my house. You can run away to the clubhouse. To the bar. Wherever it is you go on your motorcycle. I need my house. When you get how you get, I need a place to run away to. That’s my house.”
“Absolutely not. You have the clubhouse now as well. You can run to Czar’s house. You don’t run to your house, where fucking Arnold or Campbell are lurking around ready to pounce, especially if you’re pissed at me.”
“I won’t be pissed. Well, I might be. You’re scary and overwhelming sometimes. I need my house. I love my house. I love this one too, but I’m not ready to sell my house.” She turned back over, her shoulder in his face. “You can argue all you want, Savage, but as far as I’m concerned, this discussion is over. I’m not selling it.”
“You have a stubborn streak in you a mile wide.” His teeth scraped back and forth gently over the nape of her neck, spreading goose bumps all over her body. He kissed the same spot. “I love you, angel. Stubborn streak and all.”
She smiled. “I love you too. Bossy streak and all.”
* * *
Seychelle woke to an empty bed. She lifted her head and looked around. She had gotten used to Savage being with her. He liked to wake her up with his mouth on her. Usually between her legs. She wanted to try waking him up the same way, but he was very strict on her lessons and what direction they would take. Maybe she should have suggested that for their parties. Learning to give him a blow job while at a party. That might be fun—or not. For both of them.
Savage had been in the shower; the glass doors were still wet. She liked that the tiles were warm under her feet when she stepped out and that the towels were warm. That felt very decadent. She knew absolutely that Savage wouldn’t care about those things—but he did care that she had them. He was surprising in so many ways. He was rough on the outside, but with her, so incredibly soft on the inside—most of the time.