Page 53 of Riot's Thorn
Last year, I took on some contract work for the Costas crime family to get Rigger out of trouble, and even those kills were well-deserved. Men who were willing to do vile things to repay gambling debts, like selling their daughters.
Parker is ignorant of the real world, but I like her that way. I like the idea of coming home to her innocence after relieving the world of filth.
“Riot?” The timid question comes from the entry to the living room. I look around my little corner and see my perfect Parker, still in just one of my T-shirts that obscenely clings to her curves.
“Yeah?” I stand and cross my arms, hoping she’s not out here to start another fight.
“I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to make assumptions about what you do.” She slowly makes her way to me. “Of all people, I should know there’s always a reason, and while I still don’t think taking a life is the answer, I understand why you do it.”
“If you don’t, I can call Killer to tell you exactly what that man did to Chaplain.”
“No, I trust you.” She stops in front of me, her palm across her forehead. “Everything is just so messed up, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I can’t wrap my head around everything.”
She’s so fucking beautiful, and she has no clue. I wish I had flowery words or metaphors to explain to her how she makes me feel. Maybe then, she’d understand why I want—no, need—to keep her. No one has ever made me feel like I belonged. The men in that clubhouse call me their brother, but I know they think I’m weird. I get it; they don’t think twice about taking a life if there’s a threat, but to seek it out, to chase it, toenjoyit, is another thing. And I do enjoy it.
“It wasn’t fair for me to save you and bring you into my world. It would’ve been a kindness to just lay you down next to your old man.”
“You don’t mean that.” She rests her hands on my crossed arms.
“Don’t I? You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side.”
“You don’t.” She separates my arms and steps into the space she created, making my cock twitch. “Igetyou, Lucas Wise, and I don’t think anyone else in your life does. Everyone needs somebody who can push past their walls and know what’s in their heart.”
“You think you’re that for me?” Something in my chest tightens painfully. She gets it. She finally understands why I can’t let her go.
“I’m trying to be.”
I squint at the ceiling. “I tend to say the wrong things.”
“Trust me, I know,” she says.
“And I’m not gentle.”
“Are you trying to scare me away?”
I shake my head. “No, because even if you were, you can’t get away.”
She scoffs. “Good thing I’m not afraid of you then.”
“You’re not afraid of me. . . yet,” I clarify.
“You think you can scare me?” she asks, and I nod. “How?”
“I went easy on you last night.”
“I can handle whatever you dish out.” She rests my hands on her hips, and I have to remind myself she just had sex for the first time, and I can’t take her again so soon. But I can push her limits in other ways.
“Prove it,” I say, issuing the dare.
“How?”
“Grab a pillow from the couch.”
“A pillow?” Her brows pinch together, but she brings one over to me. “Now what?”
“Set it on the floor, at my feet.”
She lets the pillow fall to the ground. “Okay, done.”
