Page 25 of Savage Fire

“I’m just going to be straight with you, because tonight has been amazing, when I wasn’t really expecting amazing—to be honest—and Skathi shared some advice that I’m going to take.”

Having no idea what the hell she was talking about, Fang simply placed his fork on the table, picked up his nearly empty beer, took a sip, and waited.

“I want this—whatever this is that’s going on right now—to be real. I want to get to know you, I want you to get to know me. I want you to take me upstairs, fuck me until I can’t remember my own name, then cuddle me afterward. I want to wake up beside you tomorrow morning, plan a day of doing nothing but watchingSupernaturalon Netflix, gorging ourselves on Rosalita’s chimichangas, and fucking on every surface in this ridiculously massive house. I want to do all of that, Fang. I want that to be a regular occurrence. But I have to be honest with you…I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’m not sure that is something you’re interested in…with me. Not really. I’ve seen you, you know. With other women. Two blondes and a brunette—at least you enjoy variety. I’ve seen how you could be with one but still eye fucking another. I know what kind of men join MCs, and they aren’t the kind to buy into the picket fence and two point five kids, and the little wife at home.”

She’d seen him with women?Hiswomen? Shit. Before he could think on that, she continued.

“But you pursued me. You showed me there could be more to you than the playboy Latin lover. You gave me more of yourself than I think you even realize, and that is the Fang I want. That is the Fang that made me give tonight a chance. I could blame it on the tequila, that I was drunk when I agreed to this date, but really….” A blush turned her golden skin to a burnished pink. “Really, I just want you, Fang. Please…please don’t make me regret this.”

Speechless but overburdened with the need to respond, Fang could only stare at the woman who’d just cut him off at the knees, handed him two new legs, then told him they would only work in reverse. What she just said, what she wanted…he could give it to her. They could have that. Theywouldhave that…in a way.

He had to carefully craft his reply, though, because the wrong word, the wrong micro expression, and she’d be out the door, and he might not ever get the chance with her again.

So, he reached across the table, took her hand in his and held it tightly. He wanted to touch her, to have direct contact with her, but he also needed that extra security, a hold on her, in case she decided to run.

“Tessa,mi corazon….” Time to be honest. “I have wanted you since the first moment I saw you in the clubhouse common room. You’d come in with Skathi, were sitting at the table furthest from the door but closest to the bar. You were wearing ass-hugging jeans with a boot cut, with a hole in the right knee, a slit on the right thigh, and a black grease stain near the bottom left cuff.”

Her eyes were wide, her shock at his detailed recollection obvious. Smothering a grin, he continued. “Your t-shirt was black with a cartoon gorilla on the front, and the words, ‘It’s on like Donkey Kong’ written beneath it. Your hair was shorter then, but you’d attempted to pull it back into a ponytail, which only made it look messy—sexy as fuck messy. No makeup, no frills, but you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I knew then that I needed to know you, to have you as my own.”

She gasped, her chest rising and falling with quickening breaths.

“So this, here tonight, is only the beginning for me. For us. If I get what I want, you will be here, with me, in this house every day, every night. Wewillfuck on every surface, Iwillcuddle with you, wewillwatch your trash tv and gorge on chimichangas, and you willneverdoubt that you are my fucking queen.”

True. All of that was true. And hewouldmake her his queen. He just needed to make sure the other Bees understood her place among them.

A place she might not want to be.

He refused to consider that a possibility, especially after all she’d just shared. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. She wanted them together. He wanted them together, it would just take a little maneuvering to get her right where he wanted her.

Contract signed, her car in his garage, her shit in her own bedroom up the hall from his, and her in his bed every night for the foreseeable future. Until he tired of her, and another of his Bees took her place. He wasn’t fooling himself. He was so into Tessa because Tessa was a fixation, one he was about to…fix.

You are a fool if you believe that shit.

Again, refusing to acknowledge those thoughts, he pressed on, reaching down to yank her chair closer to him. He planted his leg between hers and used her hand to pull her toward him until her chest nearly touched his. Her panting breaths brushed over his face, the scent of her shampoo filling his lungs. Vanilla. Simple. Utilitarian. Just like his woman liked. No frills, no fancy perfumes. Taking care of Tessa would be cake compare to the tastes of his other Bees. Beer to champagne. Cotton to silk. Levi’s to Gucci. There wasn’t a comparison, and he found that he liked the difference. He appreciated all that was Tessa, and he couldn’t wait to give her everything she could ever want. Because she deserved champagne and silk and Gucci, even if she didn’t need them.

“I know this is a lot to take in all at once, but I’ve had a year to come to terms with the fact that I am all in with you, Tessa. I want you in my life, but I want you as mine. Exclusive.”

Herexclusive tohim. It wouldn’t be a two-way street, but she’d get over that in time. Once she knew what it was like to be his, she’d jump at the chance to be his, however he wanted her.

Bullshit! You’re ignoring the biggest red flag. Tessa doesn’t share.She hated the club women—mostly because they could be bitches, and she barely tolerated the men who used the club women. And it wasn’t about them being free with their favors, it was about them being free with their favors witheveryone—even the brothers with women at home. Fang didn’t give a shit if a brother dipped his wick in club pussy, that just wasn’thisstyle. After decades living with theputanasin the bordello, watching them get passed from man to man, hearing the horror stories of disease, early on he determined to keep his own women. Like Tessa, he didn’t share…but he also didn’t commit. Some men could be happy with one woman: Odin and Hawk were two good examples. But Fang wasn’t built that way. Love and commitment weren’t in his vocabulary, and he’d spent too many years enjoying the pleasure of “why choose?” He didn’t like to share, no, but he also liked variety. He had a no-strings-attached commitment to being uncommitted. His Bees knew that, they understood that, had even appreciated it. There was no jealousy, or territorialism, or possessiveness. Among his Bees, he was the king, living in bliss like a sultan and his harem. Tessa, though…. She was all about one man to one woman. White picket fences. A ring on her finger. Babies on her hip. Forever. Committed till death did they part.

But he knew he could change her mind.

He had to.

And her next words only reminded him of why he was so fucking gone with her.

“Take me upstairs, Javier. Make me yours,” Tessa breathed, her words a tumbling rush of need and fear. She needed him, and she feared what that could mean.

Biting back a smile of victory, that would—no doubt—make her punch him in the throat, he slowly rose to his feet, taking her hand with him. He held it against his chest, over his heart, and closed his hand over it. She could feel the pounding of his heart, could tell that he was as lost for her as she was for him. That his heart, it beat for her.

Peering down into her wide, glowing gem-colored eyes, he lost his breath.

Dios, she was stunning.

And she was his.

“You won’t regret this,mi corazon. I promise you that.”

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