Page 61 of Savage Heart

He crossed his arms over his chest, and met her glare with one of his own.

“What I’m doin’ is makin’ sure you listen to what I’ve got to say,” he drawled, enjoying watching the way her breath caught as her gaze looked him over. She couldn’t miss the way his cock was making a scene in his cotton pants, and since he wasn’t wearing underwear, his impressive inches were there for her viewing enjoyment.

Drawing her shoulders back, she lifted her chin in defiance, making a crooked grin curl his lips.

“And what is it you think I need to hear that you haven’t already said?” she asked, her Dr. Liz voice making him grind his back teeth.

He pushed away from the door, a stalked toward her until he was only a foot away. She hadn’t moved, but he could tell she was weighing retreat against standing her ground; relenting and showing weakness, or staying put and making herself vulnerable.

He raised his hand slowly, giving her a chance to make her decision, and when his fingers slid down her silky cheek to her chin, her full body shudder and the way she dropped her gaze revealed something to him: she was turned on and trying to hide it.

Not the time!

Fuck.

Dropping his hand, he waited until she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze once more, and once he was caught in those blue pools, he said, “That night at Tipped,” he began, and she stiffened. “It wasn’t—”

“Mama!”

Liz had never been more grateful for her daughter’s knack for interrupting conversations. She was loathe to say she fled from Trouble’s room as quick as her feet could carry her, muttering, “She’s probably thirsty,” over her shoulder as she threw his door open, and made her escape. She didn’t miss the way he growled, nor the feeling of his emerald green eyes burning a hole through her back as she went.

She knew it was only a momentary reprieve; he’d find her again, corner her, and force her to listen, but for a few short minutes—as much as she could milk—she didn’t have to listen to him talk about that night. She didn’t have to hear him replay the scene she already knew by heart. She didn’t have to hear about how he chose Bonnie over her, betraying her, breaking her.

Sadly, it only took five minutes to fetch Erika a glass of water, and tuck her back into bed.

That done, she couldn’t hide out in her daughter’s room the rest of the night; she wasn’t that much of a coward. She just….

She heaved a sigh, rubbing her forehead against the pinch of the coming headache.

Leaving Erika’s room, she left the door open a crack as Trouble had, then made her way back to the kitchen for her own glass of something resembling water.

Bottle of vodka in hand, she poured two glasses, tossed one back, and waited for Trouble to make his appearance.

She didn’t have to wait long. The sexy bastard, his golden blond hair loose around his shoulders, strolled into the kitchen, his long, muscular body moving with the grace of a wolf. It took maximum effort to not let her gaze drop to where she knew his cock was swinging thick, long, and free in those “man lingerie” house pants. When she’d been trapped in his room, face to face with that growing monster, she grew wet as fuck—memories of when they were together, of when he would thrust into her, balls deep, or when she’d ride him, his length hitting her so deep she felt it for days afterward. And her mouth watered at the memories of taking him into her throat, tasting his salty deliciousness on her tongue. She remembered the sounds he’d make, the chest deep groans, the way his breath would catch, the way he’d grunt with every thrust—

She refilled her glass, threw it back, then glared, praying the booze would make her forget everything.

“I would ask what you’re thinkin’ about, but I have a feelin’ I’ll be fuckin’ you on the counter soon after,” Trouble said, smirking wickedly. His smile dropped as the depths of his eyes turned to fire. “Then again….” He stepped toward, and she gasped, her body humming with need long denied.

He pressed his chest against her, her hard, sensitive nipples scraping against it. She shuddered. His heat filled her, making her blood rush through her veins, straight to her pulsing pussy.

God, what was he doing to her?

He leaned down, running his nose over her forehead, breathing her in. She held her breath, not trusting herself to not scent in him in return.

“I can feel you…smell you…I know you want me,” he smirked once more, his eyes dark and hooded. He nipped at the heated flesh below her ear, and she moaned at the electricity that shot directly to her breasts and clit. “Your body is telling me all I need to know, and the body never lies.”

Herbody?

She snorted, a weak sound, desperate to reestablish some equilibrium, to take back the moment so she’d survive what came next. “My body cannot be trusted,” she replied, her voice husky. “It’s a medical fact that the body is the least trustworthy part of the human being. When you’re anemic, your body tells you to eat dirt. When you’re dying of thirst in the desert, it tells you that the heat waves coming off the sand in the distance is water. When you’re starving, your body tells you that eating other people is okay. And when you’re faced with your cheating, asshole ex, your body tells you that if you have sex with him, it won’t matter; it’s just sex, and it’ll feel amazing….” She pushed at his chest and, stunned, he stumbled back, giving her space to breathe. She dragged in a breath, trying to ignore the scent of him—leather and bergamot—in the desire-thickened air. “The body is a goddamn liar, but my mind, my heart, they both tell me to tell you to fuck off.”

His face hardened, his eyes glinting as he clenched his jaw, the muscles twitching. He looked pissed as fuck—but then the hardness dropped like a stone, and what was left was guilt. It swam in his eyes, etched grooves by his eyes, and made his mouth droop. She watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Rubbing his chest, he swallowed again, before nodding once. “I get it,” he said, his voice strange. “Now isn’t the time for that. It’s what Fae would call slow burn, so we’ve got time to get to the fuckin’.” Liz gasped, shocked but not shocked at his audaciousness. The man was an ass. Before she could tell himthat, though, he continued. “We have things to talk about—well, you have things to listen to, and I have things to say.”

“Trouble—” she tried, desperate to avoid what she knew he wanted to talk about. But he stepped into her, chest to chest, making her breath lodge in her throat.

His accent was especially thick as he spoke. “We are talkin’ about this because I am so fuckin’ tired of walkin’ ‘round on eggshells. I’m tired of seein’ your smile drop when your mind goes to memories of that night, robbin’ you of your happiness in that moment. I’m tired of livin’ a lie—one of my own makin’, I realize, but now that you’re here, that Erika is here, the truth needs out, Liz. And you will let me tell my truth, because the lies have eaten away at my insides for too long, and there isn’t much of me left. But what I got left, I want to give to you…to Erika.”

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