Page 90 of Brutal Devil
I don’t give a damn. The only thing I care about is fucking her. Everything else can wait until afterward. I keep going, a man on a mission.
“So?” I ask, shouldering through the heavy door of the pool room.
“So, your brother is here,” she says, lowering her voice an octave even as her alarm continues to radiate through her words. “I don’t want him to see us like this.”
“Let him,” I say, uncaring.
It wouldn’t hurt for Saint to witness this and be reminded that Luna is my wife. My woman. That if he needs a fuck buddy, he’s going to have to look somewhere else if he wants to continue to live.
“I’m naked,” she continues, sounding scandalized.
“I don’t see the problem. If Saint comes out of his room and sees you, I’ll cut out his eyes. If he doesn’t, all good.”
She stiffens in my arms. “Priest.”
I meet her gaze for a second as I pass through the kitchen on slippery, wet feet, trying not to pay attention to the cool air kissing my dick as I go. “What?”
“You’re not going to cut out his eyes.”
“Not as long as he stays where he belongs.”
We’re finally at our bedroom. I elbow my way in, still holding Luna in my arms, and have the vague impression of the nightstand on my side of the bed being out of place. I’m instantly on guard, my whole body tensing in preparation for a potential ambush.
I set Luna down on her bare feet.
This may be a safe house, but the nature of our business means that we need to come and go. We need to exist in the outside world, and we need to trust a small set of people in our employ to know this place exists. There’s always the minute possibility that someone will go rogue. It’s never far from my mind, despite how much confidence I have in my men.
“What happened there?” I demand sharply.
“It was me,” Luna admits quietly, quelling my fears.
“You?” I look back at her, trying to understand why she suddenly had a hankering to rearrange the furniture.
Color creeps over her high cheekbones. “Yes, me. I was trying to keep you out of the room, but then you never came anyway. And I had to come looking for you, because I thought you and Saint had left me here by myself, and it scared me?—”
I kiss her to cut off the rest of what she’s about to say, because the truth is that while I didn’t leave her alone tonight, I am going to leave her alone tomorrow. But that’s a subject for another day, and one I’m not going to bring up while my wife is naked and ready to be fucked.
“Get on the bed,” I tell her when we come up for air.
She doesn’t do what I ask, lingering, nibbling at her lip like there’s something she wants to say.
“What is it, baby?”
She releases her lip. “I’m not on birth control.”
This is not what I expected to hear, and for a second, I think she’s trying to deflect me.
“Fuck,” I grind out. “That is bullshit. You’re on the shot.”
I know this about her. From the moment Tomasso suggested the alliance, I’ve been doing my due diligence. My men have worked overtime, digging up all the dirt there is to be found on Luna Revello.
Not very fucking much, as it happens. And now, I wonder if the little they found was even accurate.
“Iwason the shot,” she says quietly. “But it was giving me headaches, and I wasn’t with anyone, so I decided to let it slip.”
“What the fuck?” I feel like I’ve been hit with an anvil. I’ve just barely wrapped my head around the idea of having a wife. I can’t even begin to comprehend fatherhood, the ramifications. “Jesus, shit, fuck. Why didn’t you say something, Luna?”
I would have gotten pills. A shot. Condoms. Any fucking thing.
