“On my way.” He wants me fiery and hot so we can have some crazy makeup sex. We may not be getting along lately, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still an excellent lover. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and then hook my leg around his hip. He takes the hint and grabs the backs of my thighs and lifts me in the air so I can wrap my legs around his waist. With my body pressed into his, his dick straining in his jeans, and my heart thudding between my thighs, I say, “Make love to me.”
He told me long ago that he doesn’t make love. But that was before me. Before us. I reminded him of our first time together and how cruel he was to me. He makes love now, even if he won’t verbalize it. He takes me slowly, and when we’re there, all breathless and needy, he tells me what he wants. Not how he wants me to move, but what he wants—with us. It’s the only time he really opens up—when he’s inside me—and I need it now. I need to hear his intentions and declarations. I want to stick to my guns—that marriage isn’t something I’m ready for. I want to ask him to wait and be patient. Because I’m not ready to be a wife. But he’s Ryan, and he’s mine and I’m his. I don’t know how many more times I can reject him. It breaks my heart. Every. Single. Time. But there’s just so much tied to being a wife.
Ryan walks us to our bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us and crossing the room to our bed. He bends at the knees and slowly lowers me to the mattress. His muscles tense and shake just slightly the closer I get to the mattress. It must take such incredible strength to pull it off—holding another person while leaning over. I’ve watched him work out, tried to join him even. I know damn well he busts his ass on his keeping his body in excellent shape. Most of the club members do. I’m almost as grateful for his physique in the bedroom as I am when he’s out on a run. I get more enjoyment out of it here, but it keeps him safe out there, and that’s what really matters.
Hovering over me, he hooks his large hands over my shoulders and rubs his nose along mine. His gray eyes lift and meet my gaze. I press my lips to his and close my eyes. His breath washes over my face, and he whispers, “I love you.”
My hands lift to his shoulders, and I remove his cut, then his wife beater, and on to the fly of his jeans. He undresses me just as slowly and with as much care. He uses the pad of his thumb to rub small circles over my clit. I gasp at the contact and let out a soft mewl. Finally my body starts to relax. I’m not normally this tense when I’m with him, but we’ve just fought and resolved nothing.
Ryan wants marriage, and I want a life. The danger is too high to even guarantee me a trip to Safeway without three men on me. I haven’t actually left Ruby and Jim’s property since Christmas. That’s over two months holed up in this house without going anywhere. But I’m going to change that soon.
His touch taunts me, firm enough to excite me but too gentle to bring me to climax. I run my hands over the tattoo that covers the whole of his right pec and shoulder. It’s an intricate piece that he had designed to look like a Norse warrior’s armor. It’s gorgeous.
But it doesn’t compare to the fresh tattoo above his heart.
My tattoo.
In a beautiful Old English font with a crown above it is the name he’s given me—Cub. It’s simple and elegant, and it tells me everything I need to know. He loves me in ways I’m still figuring out. He’s making us permanent with this. It doesn’t scare me like maybe it should.
It gives me peace.
I’m his and he’s mine.
“Quit teasing me,” I whine and drag my hand over my tattoo on his left pec.
“Like you tease me?” he asks. His lips trail down my neck, placing soft kisses and casting his hot breath on my needy skin. A moan escapes me as he sucks gently at the base of my neck. I buck my hips up to his, bare flesh meeting bare flesh. A wicked smile spreads on his face, and he lowers his hips, covering mine and letting his hard cock rest on my lower belly. I grow wetter and even needier with every passing moment. “You let me fuck you and keep you, but you won’t give me what I want.”
“Marriage”—I gasp, nearly out of breath, his ministrations making me dizzy with want—“is just a piece of paper. You have me—forever.”
“If it means so little, then why won’t you fucking say yes?”
He doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he speaks. My body shivers in response to his rough thumb as I wet his skin and tense on the edge of orgasm. He’s unraveling me, but he doesn’t miss a beat. I don’t know how he can stay so focused with all that he’s doing to me.
“I come from a world where a wife is a showpiece and not a person,” I say in ragged, crazy breaths.
“You’ll still be Alexandra when you’re my wife. I’ll never take that from you.”
He slides into me slowly, still speaking, and grunts when he’s fully sheathed.
“I need you to marry me. I need more than just a promise. I need the security.”
“I know, but—”
“Ma wouldn’t give Pop the time of day until he gave her the security she needed. Nic demands it from Duke.” He’s breathing heavy now, with his words spaced out and broken up with each exhalation. “But you don’t ask for anything.”
“I have”—pant—“everything I want.”
He stops mid-stroke, mostly out of me and leaving me empty.