Sinner's Revenge(58)
“If I didn’t witness his burial with my own eyes, I’d swear I was talking to Dirk,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “Get on down to Phoenix. And this time, try not to break any bones.”
I don’t make any promises.
“When are you coming home?” Diem asks a week later. She sounds like she’s tired. And lonely. And missing me.
“Soon, pretty girl. Real soon,” I lie. The truth is, I don’t know when I’ll be home. I’m starting to like the feeling of power that courses its way through my veins with every chapter I visit. I like the way my brothers look at me with a twinkle of respect in their eyes. I like it more than pussy, but I can’t deny that I miss Diem.
“Well hurry the hell up. I’m starting to rethink this whole ‘I’m yours’ and ‘you’re mine’ monogamous talk we had.”
“So, if you’re that desperate, then why are you still waiting on me?” I know her answer will probably be something about her giving her word. But what I want her to say is that I’m the only man she wants. That with me, it’s different than it is with anyone else. That she has feelings for me that run deeper than sex. But, as always, she surprises me with words of truth.
“Because I know you’d kill them.”
Damn right I would.
* * *
I’d been gone for twelve days. Not one day had passed that I didn’t talk to Diem. It was nice to hear her voice, but it was never enough. I wanted to see her. Touch her. Sleep with her. At this point, I don’t even care about the sex—I just miss her.
My club wanted me to start making my presence known all around the country. First was Los Angeles, then Phoenix and Albuquerque. The days were exhausting, the nights long, and by the time I make it back, I’m so tired mentally and physically that all I want to do is sleep. I’m sunburned, my ass hurts, and my nuts are still vibrating from the endless hours on my bike. But I’m home, and she’s here—waiting on me naked and in my bed. It’s a welcome-home present I didn’t realize I needed until this moment.
Her olive skin seems to glow against the million-dollar white comforter. Her black hair is messy and matches the thick, black eyeliner she wears. Long, red nails match her perfectly painted toes, and she looks like sin just laying here waiting for me.
I take my time crawling on the bed between her thighs. I drag my hand slowly up her smooth calf, trailing it up her stomach, her chest, her neck, until I’m holding her face and kissing her like I missed her. Like I can’t get enough. Because I did. I can’t.
We don’t speak, we just fuck—soft and slow, hard and fast, in every position until we both collapse from exhaustion. Then I hold her. And I realize that sleep has never come as easy as it does with her in my arms.
* * *
We’re still in bed. It’s sometime in the middle of the night and we’re eating crackers and drinking beer. Naked. She’s telling me about how being a wolf worked out in her favor. I tell her the same, only a little more evasively.
“I didn’t realize being a pharmaceutical sales rep could be so challenging.” I smirk. She narrows her eyes on me, clearly pissed with my choice of words.
“And being a website designer, for a company that you run is?” She shakes her head. “You know I don’t buy that bullshit. I just go along with it because I know that whatever it is you’re hiding must be pretty important.” I just smile, not letting my eyes give anything away.
“Actually, I run a large company. It’s worldwide. I have a lot of people who work under me. Most have never even met me before. So, when a guy like me shows up and demands respect, you can imagine why they’re a little hesitant.” I snatch a cracker from the pack lying on her belly. “But you . . . you just sell drugs.”
“Actually,” she says, coming to a sitting position. “I sell drugs to a number of companies. And unlike you, I work for a corporation where there are lots of employees who are on the same level as me. The difference between me and them is that I want to make my way to the top. They want to stay exactly where they are, so they throw their workload on me because they have nothing to lose.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be so ambitious.”
“Or maybe I should just become barefoot and pregnant and let some man take care of me like my mother did.” She offers me a sardonic smile, and even though I didn’t mean to, I somehow struck a nerve. The mood seems to shift at the mention of her mother, but she wouldn’t have brought her up if she didn’t want to talk about it.
“Do you really hate her?” I ask, wiping a crumb from the corner of her lip.