Page 7 of Filthy Savage

I want him to kiss me.

Right here—right now.

He’s promising me they’ll take care of Humble, and I want to believe him. But these are the people who put him there. How can they take care of anything when it’s their fault in the first place?

His hands cup my cheeks. I fight hard against sliding my eyes closed and parting my lips in a lame attempt to be flirty and silently demand a kiss. Because with his hands on me like this, with his eyes focused on mine?

I want it.

I want him.

But I won’t do it.

I can’t.

My heart cannot take more rejection from this man. And yet, I want nothing more than his mouth and hands on every inch of my body. The memory of him has not faded. It’s all in the front of my mind. It’s all I can think about.

“He’s not all you have, beautiful,” Brew murmurs. “You got this whole club. You might have walked away from your life here, but you are still family to us.”

I hate that—because, deep down, I kind of love it.

I don’t want to be family with these people. I don’t want to be associated with them at all. They can all fuck off. At least, that’s what I tell myself over and over again in an attempt to convince myself that I despise them all.

“That’s not something I want,” I state. The lie rolls off my tongue easily.

Brew’s brows lift, and his hands fall from my cheeks at my words. I hate that. I wish he would still touch me, and yet, at the same time, I want nothing to do with him.

I’ve never felt this conflicted in my whole life, but I knew that this was the way it would be when I finally saw Brew again. Another reason I avoided coming home for the last decade.

“And why is that?” he asks, his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Seriously?” I snort. “Because being part of your family lands your ass in jail. So I’m good.”

Brew growls and leans forward slightly, his face just inches from mine. “Stop bein’ a bitch, babe.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, my eyes widening in surprise that I’ve said what I did.

He straightens, a smile on his face as he lets out a chuckle. “Already did that, Spencer.”

Enough. I have had enough.

Taking a step backward, I lift my chin and look down my nose at him. “I’m going back to the motel. You’ll let me know if you find anything new. But I’m not going to hold my breath.”

Turning my back to him, I start to walk to my car when I hear him call out for me. Stopping, I turn my head and look over my shoulder at him. He jerks his chin toward me, a smile playing on his lips.

“I know you’re pissed, but you’ll get over it.”

“It’s been ten years, Brew. I’m obviously not over it.”

I don’t expect him to laugh at my words, but that’s exactly what he does, and it pisses me right off. I stomp my foot and make a noise of frustration in the back of my throat. This man is infuriating. I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time, and I hate that.

I try to ignore his beautiful face when he smiles, his white teeth, his dark beard, his strong-as-shit body.

God, I think he’s even more muscular than he was ten years ago.

It’s not fair.

He’s only gotten sexier as he’s aged, too. Since he’s over forty now, it’s really not fair at all. He should have turned into a potbellied, balding man by now, not hotter than ever.

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