Page 45 of Under an Endless Moon

My girl.

He really was trying to wreck me tonight. I sucked it down and turned with what I hoped looked like an effortless smile on my face, snagging off the single heel that remained and landing myself on bare feet.

“What are we having?”

“I didn’t see the point in diverging from a solid plan…so spaghetti it is.”

I grinned. “Well, then, feed me, you big brute.”

He grinned his cocky grin. “It’d be my pleasure.”

FIFTEEN

OTTO

Listeningto Raven moan around the forkful of spaghetti she put into her mouth was some kind of special torture. The sound wasn’t close to ladylike, and my dick was straining so painfully in my jeans I thought I might black out.

She slurped up the last bite and pushed her empty plate away with a satisfied sigh. She was sitting across from me at the square table under the windows that overlooked the lake in the distance.

Twilight weaved through the heavens, and the last rays of the sun slanted in over the soaring pines and through the panes of glass. They cast her in this glittering glow that made her appear ethereal.

Impossible.

Too beautiful to be real.

She’d undone those locks of lush black hair and had let them cascade around her shoulders. The ends dipped down to mingle with the black polka dots of the dress that threatened to knock me senseless.

She’d fully ditched those sky-high heels, which would have been a travesty if it weren’t for the fact those dainty bare feet kept brushing my leg from under the table.

Raven could have hailed from the 40s. A perfect pinup with the sole purpose of enticing the lesser sex. This girl so highabove she might as well have been propped on a pedestal where she could never be reached.

Except I had a hunch that was not the way she wanted it. She wanted to bereached. She wanted to betouched. She wanted to be adored.

Exactly the way she deserved to be.

Too bad I was the sorry fucker who would never be good enough for the likes of her.

What made it worse was she kept looking at me like I might be worthy. Like I was some fucking hero with a cape when I was bred of nothing but corruption and calamity.

“Okay, I’m never making spaghetti again. Tonight proved I’m nothing but a hack,” she said as she sat back and patted her belly.

I pushed to standing and grabbed our plates. “It’s just spaghetti.”

“Says the man who just knocked my socks off.”

If she only knew the way I really wanted to knock her socks off.

“Used to make it back in the day when I was a prospect for the MC. Pretty sure it was the only thing that got me patched in.” I gave her a wink.

She rolled those mesmerizing raven eyes. “I’m sure you had plenty of other attributions that made you a shoe-in.”

Yeah. Like killing and maiming.

She sure as shit didn’t need to know that, either.

Raven had a romanticized idea of what me and my crew really were. We kept it that way to protect her from the horrors of our truth. Of course, she had a clue, no question about it. She was far too intuitive and intelligent to be completely in the dark. But until you saw what was going down in real time? Firsthand? You could never truly grasp the barbarity.

She stood, too, and reached for the dishes. “Here, let me do those since you cooked.”

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