Page 158 of Fearless

The first touch sent a jolt up her arms, pressed at her chest, caused her heart to falter a beat. She had always loved the idea of loving him, taking care of him, treating him like her very own beloved pet and making him feel special. A girlish dream, one she hadn’t allowed herself for five years – not until now. Now, all the old elation returned to her, the heady fantasy of exercising her rights as his woman.

She placed her hands on the knob of his spine between the tops of his shoulder blades and dug her fingers in. He tensed for just a moment, and then his head bowed as he arched up into her touch like a cat.

“Christ,” he murmured.

She saw the tremors under his skin, the way the pain and stiffness fought against the pleasure of her searching fingers. The lavender oil glistened in the lamplight, gilding his taut skin as she smoothed it outward, across the wide expanse of his shoulders.

“Feels alright?” she asked, voice deeper than she’d expected it to be.

He grunted and leaned into the heel of her hand as she dug it into his deltoid.

Not like a cat, she decided with a smile; like a dog, a great beastly dog who breathed heavy and wanted more and encouraged her with low, deeply satisfied murmurs.

She worked slowly up the back of his neck, long, firm strokes with her fingertips, up into his damp hair, working his scalp with her fingertips. He tipped his head back, eyes closed, so she could get his temples, along his hairline at his forehead.

“Don’t you get the Bitches to do this for you?” she asked without rancor, just genuinely curious. His hair slid like heavy silk between her fingers. The lavender smell was thick now; she felt her eyelids grow heavier.

“Never,” he said, and she knew it was true.

Down the side of his neck again, skimming around the raw red edges of his gunshot wound, pressing gently at the trapezius, pattering at the stiffness there.

He made an unhappy sound, but he moved his head to the side, giving her full access to the spot.

Ava felt the tears returning, building behind her eyes. “Poor man,” she cooed, circling the wound. “Poor sweet man. Oh, Merc, you could have…” She bit hard on her lip, unable to finish. He could have been hurt worse. He could have been killed.

Mercy stood, and before she could protest, he’d gathered her close and picked her up into his arms.

“Don’t–”

“Your turn to shut up,” he said, not unkindly. And he laid her down on the bed, climbed over her, kissed her.

“Your massage–”

His tongue filled her mouth, cutting her off. He spread the halves of her jacket, worked his hand beneath her tank top, passed it across the bare skin of her stomach.

Ava tangled her hands in his wet hair and gave herself up to him.

Maggie was pouring the heavily peppered cream sauce over their noodles and chicken when Ghost came in the back door, kicking off his boots in the direction of the shoe rack and sighing like it was an effort just to exist. That President patch weighed heavy on his chest, she knew, dragging at him, pressing at the sides of his skull like a vise.

She gave the pasta a quick toss and moved toward the fridge, snagging him two beers and setting them beside his already-set place at the table.

“Hey, baby. You okay?”

He grunted a response as she kissed him and then moved away, back to the pasta, more stirring in order.

“Your boyfriend was there today, kicking over rocks,” he said.

She snorted. “Don’t you dare call that man my boyfriend. You’ll ruin my appetite.” She turned and set the big serving bowl on the table. “What’s he looking for?”

Ghost sank down into his chair, shaking his head. “PD’s not even looking into Andre – which is a good thing in and of itself – but Stephens is using the cops as his personal attack dogs. Fielding is looking for any and all dirt, on any of us. The city’s got its marching orders: get rid of the Dogs.”

She chewed at her lip. “It’s not just the cops.”

When he lifted his brows, she told him about her visit to Daisy with Jackie that afternoon, and he swore.

“He’s gonna sic the villagers with pitchforks after us.”

Maggie nodded as she served him and then went back for her glass of wine on the counter. “It’s looking that way.”

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