Chapter 13 #3
Alex shakes her head frantically.
"Get out of here," Greyson orders her. "Find another job. Another town. If you're still in Devil Souls territory by the end of the week, we'll consider it an invitation for a more private conversation."
She doesn't need to be told twice. Scrambling into her car, she peels out of the parking lot, tires squealing in her haste to escape.
Once she's gone, Greyson turns to me, his expression unreadable. "You should have come to me."
"This wasn't club business," I reply, standing my ground. "This was family business. Woman business."
"Xavier is under Zach's protection," he counters. "That makes it our priority."
"And Xavier is my friend," I shoot back. "That makes it my business."
We stare at each other, neither of us willing to back down. Finally, unexpectedly, Zach breaks the tension with a rough laugh.
"Jesus Christ, you women are terrifying," he says, shaking his head. "Remind me never to piss any of you off."
Greyson's mouth twitches, the first hint that his anger might be receding. "What exactly where you planning to do if we hadn't shown up?"
"Exactly what we did," Tiana replies, unapologetic. "Deliver a message she wouldn't forget."
"And if she'd called the cops?" Greyson presses.
"She wouldn't," Meadow says confidently. "Not after what she did to Xavier. She knows how it would look—her word against a respected doctor's, with her history of homophobic comments."
Greyson studies each of us in turn, his expression gradually shifting from anger to something that might be amusement, and I can see the respect.
Zach pulls out his phone, checking the time. "Xavier's waiting for me at his place. He can't know about this. Not yet."
"He won't hear it from us," Tiana promises. "As far as we're concerned, this never happened."
Zach hesitates, then pulls her into a rough hug. "Thank you," he murmurs against her hair. "For having his back."
"Always," she replies simply.
As we prepare to leave, Greyson catches my arm, pulling me close enough that only I can hear his next words.
"You're something else, you know that?" His voice is a mixture of exasperation and admiration. "Most women would have just reported her."
"I'm not most women," I remind him. "I'm a Bennett. And a Devil Soul ole lady."
His eyes darken at that, his grip tightening possessively. "Yes, you are. And God help anyone who forgets it."
* * *
When we arrive home, I can feel the tension radiating from Greyson's body as he kills the engine. His movements are deliberate, controlled, as he removes his helmet and helps me off the bike. But his eyes—his eyes tell a different story. The burn makes my breath catch.
"Inside." His voice is a low command that brooks no argument.
The moment the door closes behind us, he has me pressed against it, his body caging mine as he studies my face with fierce concentration.
"You went after her." His thumb brushes over my swollen knuckles. "You protected Xavier. Defended one of our own."
"Of course I did," I reply, confused. "He's family."
Something flashes in Greyson's eyes that sends heat pooling low in my belly. "Do you have any idea," he growls, his mouth hovering just above mine, "how fucking hot that is?"
Before I can respond, his lips crash against mine in a kiss that's all possession and hunger. His hands grip my hips, lifting me effortlessly as my legs wrap around his waist.
"My woman," he mutters against my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin. "Fighting for what's right. Standing up for family."
He carries me to the living room, not bothering with the stairs, and deposits me on the couch with surprising gentleness given the storm brewing in his eyes. Then he's on his knees before me, pushing my thighs apart with firm hands.
"Need to taste you." He's already working on dragging my panties off. "Need to show you how much I fucking love what you did tonight."
I lift my hips to help him slide them down my legs, my heart racing at the raw desire in his expression. "Greyson—"
"Shhh," he cuts me off, pressing open-mouthed kisses up my inner thigh. "Let me worship you the way you deserve."
The first stroke of his tongue against my center has me arching off the couch, a startled cry escaping my lips. He holds my hips firmly, keeping me exactly where he wants me as he devours me with single-minded focus.
"So perfect," he murmurs against my sensitive flesh. "So brave. So fucking mine."
His words send shivers through me, the pride in his voice as intoxicating as his skilled mouth. When he slides two fingers inside me while sucking gently on my most sensitive spot, stars explode behind my eyelids.
"That's it," he encourages as I come apart for him. "Let go for me, Livie. Let me feel how much you want this."
My release crashes through me, my body convulsing around his fingers. But he doesn't stop, doesn't relent. If anything, he increases his efforts, drawing out my orgasm until I'm gasping his name, my hands fisted in his hair.
When he finally pulls away, his chin glistening with the evidence of my pleasure, his expression is one of pure male satisfaction. "Bedroom," he commands, already lifting me into his arms. "Now."
This time we make it upstairs, though barely. He strips me with efficient movements, his own clothes following in a hasty trail across the floor. When he presses me back onto the mattress, his body covering mine, I feel the hard length of him against my thigh.
"Need you," he growls, positioning himself at my entrance. "Need to be inside you."
He enters me slowly, filling me completely. The fullness is exquisite, a perfect counterpoint to the tenderness with which he cradles my face.
"Do you understand what you do to me?" he asks, his voice rough with emotion as he begins to move. "Seeing you stand up for what's right. Seeing you protect our family."
Each thrust punctuates his words, driving them home as surely as he drives himself deeper into my body. I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him closer, meeting him movement for movement.
"You're everything," he continues, his pace increasing as passion overtakes him. "Everything I never knew I needed. Everything I'll kill to protect."
His hand slides between us, finding the bundle of nerves at my center with unerring accuracy. "Come with me," he demands, his rhythm faltering as he nears his own release. "Let me feel you, Livie."
The combination of his words, his touch, and the perfect angle of his thrusts sends me spiraling over the edge again. This time he follows immediately, my name a broken cry on his lips as he empties himself inside me.
For long moments afterward, we lie tangled together, his weight a comforting pressure as our heartbeats gradually slow. When he finally shifts to his side, taking me with him, his expression turns to something tender and vulnerable.
"I meant it," he says quietly, brushing damp hair from my forehead. "What you did tonight, standing up for Xavier, and delivering justice your way, it means everything."
"I was just doing what needed to be done," I reply, tracing the lines of the tattoo on his chest. "What anyone would do."
"No." He shakes his head, his eyes serious. "Not everyone. Most people would look the other way, or make excuses, or leave it to someone else to handle." His hand cups my cheek. "But not you. Never you."
The pride in his voice makes my heart swell. "I'm learning from the best," I tell him with a smile.
His answering smile is devastating. "Fierce, loyal, unstoppable." He presses a gentle kiss to my lips. "God, I love you."
The words, still new between us, send warmth spreading through my chest. "I love you too."