Page 87 of Filthy Savage

I can’t wait for it.

As terrified as I am, I am also equally excited about it all.

“Oh,” I call out softly. “And Ophelia.”

Evan lets out a soft and sweet chuckle. He cares for Ophelia as much as I do, as much as Kyle does. That warms my heart. I can’t contain myself. I shift forward, touching my lips to his bottom one, then roll my hips against his thigh.

I went to bed last night wearing a comfortable cotton nightgown with no panties in hopes he would have come home and taken me when he got here.

“You haven’t kept up on your promise,” I breathe against his lips.

He groans, feeling my heat against his thigh. I don’t care if I seem like a wild animal. I feel like one whenever he’s near.

Completely and totally feral.

There is no other way I can feel about him. It’s almost too much. The way he makes me feel inside, like I’m out of control, like whenever he’s near, I can’t stop thinking about the way he fills me.

“It’s been more than eight hours since you’ve been inside of me.”

And that is all I needed to say. In a flash, I’m on my back, and he fills me with one swift thrust.

Perfection.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FOUR

SPENCER

I stare at my reflection.I don’t know if this is what they meant when the girls said girls’ night, but I hope so because I feel hot. I’m wearing a little black dress, and when I say little, I mean little.

It’s short and tight.

The bust has a square neckline with thick enough straps that I can wear a regular bra beneath it. On my feet, I wear spiked red heels. My hair is styled in beachy waves down my back, and my makeup is light, except for my red lips.

“You can’t go out like that,” a deep voice grumbles behind me.

I don’t even have to look. He’s the only man in this house, but also, he’s the only man who would ever care what I looked like, aside from maybe Humble. Although I’m not sure if he would ever really notice what I was wearing. Humble has always been oblivious to that stuff.

I turn to face the familiar voice, my lips curving up into a grin. “I am wearing this,” I state. “Girls’ night means no men,just girls. Even if there were men, you’d have nothing to worry about, ever.”

He laughs softly, his shoulder leaning against the doorjamb. His arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted to the side, and his eyes on me and nowhere else. If we were in a crowded room, I would feel like the only woman in said room. This man right here knows how to make me feel desired and desirable all at the same time.

“I’m not worried about you, beautiful,” he says, pushing off the wall as he straightens himself.

Slowly, he makes his way toward me. One step after the other, his gaze never leaving mine. I am frozen in place, pressing my thighs together as I attempt to alleviate the ache between them.

Evan lifts his hand and places his palm against my belly before he speaks. “I’m not worried about you,” he repeats, his voice softer. “I’m worried about them. If any man even glances in your direction, I’m going to find them and kill them.”

His words come out on a growl. My heart skips a beat. This should not be as romantic as it feels. I know it’s crazy as hell, but I don’t care. I love it because I know he’s not being dramatic or exaggerating.

This man would kill for me.

And that is sexy as all sin.

“I don’t think there will even be any men there. Sal’s is closed, so we’re going to hang out there. Drink a little, eat a little, dance a little.”

At the mention of dancing, Evan’s brow arches. “Dance?” he asks.

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