Savage Love (Savage Trilogy #3) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,3
squeeze my eyes shut, cursing at the interruption.
Candace is suddenly on her toes, her lips a breath from mine. “I always knew you were dangerous, Rick Savage,” she says, proving her ability to read my thoughts, even when I don’t turn them into words. “Perhaps it even turned me on.”
My hands come down on her waist. “Now you’re just trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?” Her hand slides under my shirt as she adds, “Because the funny thing about almost dying is how much it leaves you wanting what you want. Right now, in this moment.”
“Oh hell,” I murmur, my tongue sweeping deeply against hers, and when she moans, I’m hard and hot, and ready to take her right here, in this hall bathroom. That is until there’s another knock on the door.
“We need you, Savage!” Adam calls through the door.
I grunt and pull my mouth from Candace’s. “This better be good!” I shout out irritably, but I don’t get a reply.
I kiss Candace one more time, hard on the mouth, and then lift her off the door, to angle her under the light, and give that slice on her neck another inspection. “No telling whose neck that bastard’s knife had been inside. When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
“Well, Dr. Savage, I cut my hand last year. And since you weren’t here to stitch it up, I went to the ER where I got four stitches and a tetanus shot.”
She’s being playful, I know, but every time I hear something I’ve missed with her, it guts me. “I’ll be here next time—every next time.”
Her lips curve. “I know. I’m not letting you run away again.”
I rotate her to face the door, and step behind her, my lips finding her ear. “I don’t run baby, but we’ll discuss that in more detail, later. When we’re alone and naked. And after I lick you into oblivion and back.”
The soft little gasp that escapes her lips has me opening the door before I stop giving a fuck what Adam wants, and don’t open the door. At least not until she’s gasping like that a few more times.
She turns to face me as we exit the bathroom, pointing a finger a me. “You’re bad,” she accuses.
My arm slides around her but I don’t dispute that statement. I am bad. The question is, can she handle my many shades of bad? I’m not sure she can answer that question until this is over and the wait is going to kill me.
CHAPTER THREE
Candace
With Rick’s hand settled low and possessive on my back, we enter the dining room to find Adam, Adrian, Asher, and Smith sitting at the rectangular table. Men that feel more like his family than his father ever has. They are brothers to Rick and those brothers, every last one of them, stand up when I enter the room.
“I’m fine,” I assure them quickly before I’m suffocated with protective, testosterone-driven worry that will only magnify the worry Rick feels right now. I need these men, all of them as Rick’s brothers, to trust in my backbone, to know that I’m not going to meltdown, so Rick might trust me as well.
My stomach knots with this understanding I’m coming to terms with. An understanding that Rick really does fear that I can’t handle this life when what I can’t handle is life without him.
Determined to show everyone in this room that I’m here, I’m fine, I’m ready to fight, I pull away from Rick and walk to the end of the table to stand opposite the Walker team. It’s time for me to speak for me, to ask my own questions.
“How does this end?” I ask. “That’s all I care about right now. Actually, most importantly, where are we on my father’s extraction?” Everyone is still on their feet and I motion to their seats. “Please, everyone, sit down. Thank you for worrying, but I’m fine.” They don’t sit. They all just stand there and blink at me until Rick steps to my side. “Are you all finally standing up to salute my greatness, or what?” They sit. All of them. Rick and I remain on our feet.
“We’re making extraction plans for your father with our man on the ground,” Adam says.
“He’s not extracting alone,” Rick says. “Where’s his help? Or rather, who’s his help? Because before I’ll let an asswipe help Reynolds we’ll delay the extraction.”
“We can’t delay,” I argue, grabbing his arm. “Tag wants him dead. Gabriel might, too.”