Page 17 of Craving the Bad Boy

“I love you too, Tammy,” he finally says. His voice is firm, unwavering, just like his hard-on inside me. His words penetrate my chest, drilling straight down into my heart, while his manhood spears up into my stomach.

This is overwhelming.

Ever since that first night when he took me on his bike, it felt like our bodies fit perfectly together. Now it’s like our souls were built to link with each other too.

He picks up the pace, thrusting faster and harder as he presses his lips to mine, and I forget about everything: Roxy, my haunted past, my silly reservations about Saxon. The only thoughts left in my mind are how we may just actually be perfect for each other. I can trust him. And we will have the most beautiful future together.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I’m committing to it. Committing tohim.

My bad boy biker.

My love.

Saxon.

8

TAMMY

I can’t stop thinkingabout last night. About Saxon.

The way he held me. The way he kissed me. The wonderful things he whispered into my ear that I never thought I would be ready to hear.

I told him I loved him, and he said it back.

I told him about my past, and he accepted it.

He acceptedme.

And now, it’s like I’m living in a dream. Everything feels too good to be true. This gorgeous, tough, rough-riding man who could get any girl he wants says he lovesme?How did I end up so lucky?

My heart aches in such a wonderful way. And not just my heart, my body as well. But that’s no surprise considering how hungrily Saxon took me last night. Three times before falling asleep on me, his body’s warmth pressed against me like I had my arms wrapped around the engine of his bike.

He’s a dangerous man, there’s no doubt about that. But I’m starting to understand him now–the things that fuel the strength and dominance so cemented into his being. When he looks at me, I feel protected. I feel safe.

But even as I lie in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, the outside world starts to creep into my apartment, invading the little sanctuary Saxon and I have begun to forge for ourselves.

He left early this morning after waking me up by sliding his cock inside me. I guess he’s got some club business to attend to, but he said he would call me after. And despite the fact that I’m still glowing inside, still tingling, still feel like I’m floating on a giant pink cloud–the weight of the everything outside the security of our relationship starts to sink down on me again, reminding me of just how fragile I am.

I think about how I told him about my father. How he would break me down, piece by piece, until I was exhausted and ready to collapse. I think about how Saxon’s eyes softened when I showed him the scars my dad left on me. But then I remember how I felt when he showed me his. A collection obtained from a lifetime of living life as an outlaw.

Trauma bonding. Is that what we’re doing? What we did?

We’re building a life together, but the world out there is still harsh. Still unforgiving. And as hard as I try, I still can’t get that damn bitch Roxy out of my head.

Something about the way she talks, the way she struts, the way she looks at me like I’m beneath her…it just doesn’t sit right with me. But Saxon told me not to think about her, so I’m trying my best not to. He told me I belonged to him, and he wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t hurt me.

I trust him.

I’d love to lie in bed all day, but I’ve got a shift at Jayne’s in a couple of hours. So I force myself out of bed, take a shower, and throw on just enough makeup so I don’t look like a zombie. I’m going to have bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, but I notice an orange juice and a cardboard to-go box on the counter with a note:

Hope you like egg and cheese -Saxon

My heart warms, and I smile as I open the box and see an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich from the deli down the street. A sigh of contentment slowly drifts out from my lips as I smile, feeling myself blush.

Could this man be more perfect?

I grab the juice and the sandwich and rush out the door. I’m already running behind and am stuffing my face as I drive to work. By the time I pull up in the lot behind Jayne’s, it’s 10:57, three minutes before I’m supposed to clock in.

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