Page 49 of Razor's Edge
“Edge, talk to me about what happened just now. I need to understand where you went in that brilliant brain of yours,” he says quietly, never stopping the soothing circles he is tracing.
I run my hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp before speaking, “To be honest, my past demons rose when you burst through that door.” I stop, not ready to tell him the truth and upset him.
“I need you to be honest with me, love. Nothing you say can or will upset me,” Razor says as if he can read my mind.
“Okay. I was scared. I was scared you were angry and going to strike me. I thought you were angry that I didn’t tell you where we were or where I was going. My anxiety and fear took hold. It was like having a flashback.”
Razor’s eyes darken and then lighten at my words. He sits quietly before speaking, “Edge, I know what I’m about to say is just words, and you won’t believe a word of it without action. But hear me and hear me good. I do not plan today, tomorrow, or anytime going forward on causing you any pain—mental, physical, or emotional. Your care, happiness, and well-being are my number one priority.”
Surprise floods through me. “Razor, I’m not understanding. What are you saying?”
“You and Starla are mine. I’ll spend every day trying my very best to make you happy and content.”
I’m done talking as my mouth crashes against his, battling his tongue as I taste him. I climb off the bed into his lap. Razor kisses me with so much passion that my soul fills with a contentment I haven’t known since my parents passed. I pull back, kissing his neck and pulling his shirt over his head. Once he is free of it, I continue my assault down his body, licking and nipping my way to his pants.
He leans back on his elbows and watches me with a raised eyebrow. I unbutton his pants, pulling them open and releasing his hard cock. Leaning forward, I lick from base to tip, and Razor groans, dropping his head back. I grin, taking the head into my mouth, sucking gently. Razor’s hips jerk up, trying to feed more, but I pull back, not allowing him to control.
“Edge, baby. Fuck, that’s good.” Razor tangles his hands in my long dark hair.
I grab the base of his cock with my right hand and swallow as much as possible. Working my tongue and hand with slight pressure from my teeth occasionally makes Razor beg for more and asks me to stop.
“Damn it, woman, if you don’t stop, I will come down your throat,” Razor says through gritted teeth, using the grip on my hair to guide me.
I don’t let up or stop what I’m doing.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Razor chants repeatedly as he explodes in my mouth. His taste is salty and tangy, and I swallow without losing a single drop.
I pull away and crawl up Razor’s body, laying on his chest, listening to his heart pound. Razor strokes my back, not saying a word. We lay there, enjoying each other’s presence. I take a deep breath, getting ready to talk to him about something I can’t let go of. I need to know where Star is and why she won’t be coming back.
“What’s going on in that brain of yours?” Razor asks gruffly.
“Where is she?” I get to the point.
“Club business, babe,” Razor says sadly.
I huff out a frustrated breath because that answer is bullshit. I need to fucking know, though, I understand.
“Fine, I won’t ask again. Tell me, though, how can you be sure she won’t show up here and take our baby from us?” I ask, fear racing down my spine.
Razor uses his finger to lift my chin until we’re eye-to-eye. “That woman is the reason my baby brother is dead. She is also responsible for drugging our baby and using hard drugs inside the club. All the rules are out the window. She’ll get what’s coming her way.”
The demon that lays still and quiet in his soul reaches out at those words. Without a doubt, the club has dealt with the problem. She won’t be back. Starla is now and forever mine.
26
Razor
Iwatch my woman closely to see if her feelings for me change or shift, knowing what we did. I don’t expect love, compassion, and understanding in her eyes. She is more than I deserve. She is beyond resilient and never lets anything hold her down or shake her belief that I’ll take care of her and Starla.
I cup her face to get her attention, ensuring she hears what is burning a hole in my soul. “I fucking love you, Logan. I’ll spend every second of every day doing everything I can to make sure you see, feel and understand the depths of my love.”
Passion, heat, understanding, and need turn like a tornado in her eyes as two tears rush down her face, making my heart squeeze with anticipation of her saying what my mother always did—for someone to love me, they would have to be deaf, blind, mute, and fucking stupid.
“I love you and everything you bring into my life. You and Starla make every day worth it. You remind me that even though I’ve been dirtied and used, I’m still loveable and deserve it. Thank you for loving me even when I don’t think I deserve it, love,” she whispers.
“You always deserve it. There is nothing you could ever do to make it so I wouldn’t love you.”
Our lips come together, saying everything we can’t or don’t know how to. The piercing squeal of a baby abruptly ends our make-out session. We pull apart laughing.
