Chapter 8
KANE
S avannah was wrapped around me like a siren holding me in her clutches.
When I’d brought her clothes from her apartment, I’d deliberately left out pajamas, giving her my shirts to wear to bed instead.
Now, one bare leg was tangled over mine, her soft thigh pressed against my hip. Her arm rested across my stomach, fingers curled into my side like she was afraid to let me go. And her head— fuck me —her head was tucked under my chin, her breath warm where it feathered against my collarbone.
I’d woken up to worse.
But never anything this fucking dangerous.
It was early, and pale streaks of dawn were just barely filtering through the blinds.
The AC hummed quietly above us, and for a few seconds, I let myself lie there, breathing her in like the addict I was becoming.
Every inhale brought her scent—warm vanilla, soft citrus, and something uniquely her that clung to my sheets and was now embedded in my skin.
This had been a mistake. One I kept repeating every night. Over and over, until slipping into this room and climbing into bed with Savannah became the only thing that quieted the chaos in my head.
I needed to get up. Untangle myself from her tempting arms and leave before she woke up and realized I’d slept with her.
Then she moved restlessly, and her soft, even breathing stalled.
Shit. She was waking up.
Sure enough, her lashes fluttered against my chest. A small breath escaped her lips, followed by a sleepy, disoriented hum that somehow managed to shoot straight to my cock.
She shifted, not fully aware yet, dragging that delicious body of hers against mine in a way that made restraint feel like a fucking joke.
Her eyes opened slowly. Still heavy with sleep. Glazed. Confused.
Then focused directly on me.
For a second, we just stared at each other, breathing the same air, her lips parted, her body pressed flush to mine.
“What…” Her raspy voice was rough with sleep, and I wanted to hear it like that again—but in a different context entirely. “What are you doing in here?”
My mind raced to find an answer, but the way she looked right then—hair messy from sleep, cheeks flushed, her body warm and pliant against mine—wrecked me.
She was all soft curves, the bare skin of her legs hot against mine.
And those lips had been driving me insane since the moment she opened her smart mouth.
I lost sight of anything else. Suddenly ruled by my base, primal instincts.
Shifting quickly, I rolled Savannah beneath me in one smooth, slow motion.
Her breath caught as my body settled over hers, caging her in.
One of her legs bent instinctively, cradling my hips so my giant, swollen cock was pressed into the heat between her thighs.
Her hands flew to my chest, and her fingers curled into my shirt.
Her pupils blew wide as her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts. Although her luscious lips trembled just slightly, she didn’t look scared.
She looked…needy. Desperate.
And fuck me if I wasn’t already gone.
“You look like sin, baby,” I rasped, my voice rougher than I’d meant it to be. “And I’m in no shape to fight the devil this morning.”
Her mouth parted, and my lips crashed against hers.
It was like lighting a fuse with a fucking blowtorch.
Savannah moaned this deep, helpless little sound that vibrated against my tongue. Then she kissed me back like she’d been waiting for it, starved for me. Her fingers curled in my hair, her hips shifting beneath me in a slow grind that made every blood cell in my body scream.
I kissed her like I’d been waiting a lifetime. As if I’d earned it. Like I’d fuckin’ earned her. It was the furthest thing from the truth, but I didn’t care.
Our mouths tangled, rough and messy and so damn good I nearly forgot every reason this was a terrible fucking idea.
Her nails scraped lightly down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
My hips jerked against hers before I could stop them, and the friction nearly broke me.
I shifted, grinding against her sex, and the heat radiating from her practically singed me right through the thin layers of clothing between us.
I kissed down her jaw and across her neck. She arched into me, head falling back, lips parted on a gasp as I licked at the spot beneath her ear.
“Kane…” she whispered, and the wrecked way she said my name fucking shattered me.
I slid a hand under the hem of her shirt, fingers brushing the warm skin of her waist. Her stomach trembled beneath my palm. She wasn’t stopping me. She wasn’t protesting. She was clinging. Silently begging for more.
“Fuck,” I growled against her skin, forcing myself to slow down, even as my cock throbbed with every beat of my pulse.
I pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. Her lips were swollen, eyes glassy with want.
“You don’t get to pretend this didn’t happen,” I demanded, my voice a low rasp. “Not after this.”
She blinked, dazed. Her hand fisted in the front of my shirt.
“But when I’m deep inside you—which will happen, sugar—it won’t be because I made that choice for you.” Every word was edged with restraint that felt like it’d been welded to my bones. “You want me, you’ll have to admit it. Out loud. Because once I have you, there’s no walking that shit back.”
Her breath caught again, her thighs squeezing around me.
But she didn’t say anything.
Damn, I wanted her to. But she wasn’t ready.
For the moment, the way she looked at me—like she wanted to taste every dark, dangerous part of me—was enough.
I cursed under my breath and rolled off her before I said fuck it and ruined everything.
The loss of heat between us was immediate. She let out a soft, involuntary noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan and nearly dragged me right back in.
I sat on the edge of the bed, running both hands through my hair, sucking in air like it might cool the furnace she’d lit in my blood.
Savannah stayed quiet behind me. I could feel her watching me. Could feel the questions simmering behind those sharp ocean-blue eyes.
I wasn’t ready to answer them, so I stood, walked to the dresser, and grabbed a fresh shirt and jeans.
My hands weren’t steady. My head wasn’t clear.
I needed air and a fucking ice-cold shower.
I also needed distance to reclaim my grip on life.
To remember my priorities because I could feel them shifting.
The room was quiet as I pulled on my clothes. Then I shoved my cut on, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and glanced down at her.
She was sitting up in bed now, the blanket clutched to her chest, her hair a tangled mess around her flushed face. Blue eyes wide and still hazy with remnants of desire.
Fucking hell. She looked so damn beautiful it hurt.
Without another word, I left the room.
And told myself I wasn’t going back tonight.
Even though we both knew I would.
Two fucking days.
Two days of bringing her meals, watching her mouth wrap around a damn spoon, and trying not to let my dick do the thinking. Two days of pretending I wasn’t counting the seconds till I could climb into bed next to her like an addict getting his fix.
I wasn’t used to denying myself. Not that I’d had any desire for a woman in a long time, but generally, when I wanted something, I fucking took it. It was how I’d built an empire and had a reputation for being a ruthless son of a bitch who inspired fear and respect.
Yet one tiny woman was pushing my buttons and driving me up the wall.
I’d stopped making her stay in the bedroom. It didn’t make a difference. She stuck close to the couch or curled into the chair by the window with a book from the stack I bought her, and those soft little sounds she made while reading turned my brain into sludge.
I was fucking losing it.
She wasn’t breaking. No panic, no bargaining, no sudden slips of information.
Just Savannah, with that stubborn mouth and sharp eyes, meeting me head-on every time I tried to shake something loose.
She didn’t cower. Didn’t run. She watched me—like she wanted to peel back my skin and get a good look at what was underneath. As though she wanted to understand me.
But I didn’t fucking understand myself right now.
Which made me feel slightly unhinged. Not a good idea for someone as dangerous and ruthless as me.
I shoved the door open harder than necessary and stepped into the room. She was on the chair, legs tucked up under her, reading again. Her head snapped up. Blue eyes sharp as ever.
“Back for more?” she asked, tone light but daring.
I kicked the door shut behind me and stalked forward. “You tell me.”
She marked her page and shut the book. “Let me guess. You’re here to ask if I suddenly remembered some incriminating detail about my brother. A secret alias? A safety deposit box? The location of the Ark of the Covenant?”
“Don’t play with me, Savannah.” My voice came out low, rougher than I meant. “Tired of circling the same damn questions.”
She huffed. “Then maybe stop asking them.”
I leaned over the chair, bracing a hand on either side of her head. “You really don’t give a fuck that I have you locked in my room?”
She tilted her chin up, bold as ever. “Should I?”
“You should be begging to get out.”
“Then I guess you’ve made it too comfortable to get the reaction you want.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. She was still in one of my shirts—even though she had her own clothes. That shouldn’t have made my gut tighten the way it did. But it fucking did. I liked how she looked in my clothes way too fucking much.
“You have a smart mouth,” I said, voice tight. “But you’re not saying anything useful.”
“Maybe I don’t know anything useful.” She leaned in, eyes burning into mine. “Or maybe I don’t feel like helping my kidnapper. Maybe I want you to leave me alone!”
I growled. “Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” Her eyes were full of sass, making me as hard as a rock.
“As though you want me to kiss you again.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, then silence fell thick and hot between us. Her eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a second—but it was enough.
I growled low in my throat and yanked her up out of the chair, one arm banded around her waist as I crushed my mouth to hers.
There was no patience. No finesse. Just fire, need, and two days of wanting her so badly that I could barely think straight. She gasped against my lips, her fingers curling into my shirt. When I licked into her mouth, she opened for me like I fucking owned her.
And fuck, I wanted to.
My free hand buried in her hair, tilting her head back so I could devour her properly. Her body arched into mine as though she couldn’t get close enough. Her mouth was hot, wet, and so damn perfect.
She moaned—soft, high-pitched, helpless. It nearly snapped the frayed rope hanging onto my control.
I jerked back with a groan, and every muscle in my body coiled tight with restraint. Her lips were swollen, her breath came in ragged little pants, and her eyes—fuck, her eyes—were pure fire.
She made a little mewl of protest, and I firmly shook my head. “Told you, sugar,” I rasped, “not making that choice for you. When we fuck, it’ll be because you’re beggin’ for it. So you can’t pretend in the morning that I made you do something you didn’t want.”
She stared at me, chest heaving. And I knew— knew —if I stayed another second, I’d throw that shit out the window and take her right there.
So I tore myself away. Stalked to the door with every nerve in my body on fire. I slammed it behind me, locked it, and barreled down the hall, boots heavy on the hardwood, jaw clenched so tight it ached.
I couldn’t breathe. Could barely fucking think. She had me twisted up in knots. Me.
Son of a fucking bitch!
When I stormed into my office, Edge was there, booted feet up on my desk like he owned the fuckin’ place. Jackass.
He raised a brow. “Well, look who decided to stop brooding in his tower.”
“Fuck off. And feet off my desk before I rip ’em off and you have nothing to push a fucking gas pedal with.”
He grinned and dropped his boots to the floor. “You've been a moody bastard lately. Been wondering if someone keyed your bike. Or if you’re all twisted up over a blonde with a smart mouth.”
I threw myself into the chair behind my desk and dragged both hands down my face. “Not in the mood.”
“That’s the problem.” Edge leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “You’re all wound up. You’re gonna snap and put a hole in the wall. Or someone’s face.”
I didn’t respond. Just stared at the grain in the wood like it had answers. He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t gonna tell my brother that. He was already smug enough.
He let the silence hang for a minute before adding, “You either need to fuck her or you need to race.”
My head snapped up, eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
Edge blinked. “What, fuck her?”
I pushed out of the chair so fast that it scraped across the floor. Then I leaned across the desk, grabbing him by the shirt, and yanking him forward until I was right in his face. “You wanna keep your teeth, don’t ever talk about Savannah like that again.”
“For fuck’s sake, man,” he muttered, eyes wide now but not scared. “I was joking.”
“Am I fucking laughing, asshole?”
He held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Message received. She’s off-limits for locker room humor. Didn’t realize you were that far gone.”
I shoved off him, breathing hard as I braced my hands on the edge of the desk. I didn’t know what the fuck was the matter with me.
Edge straightened his shirt and let out a long breath. “So, this is a thing now.”
“Shut up.” I dropped my head forward and tried to find my usual calm. I’d never been one to react with emotion.
“She in your bed?”
“Don’t.”
“She’s obviously in your damn head.”
I raised my head to look at him, voice like gravel, full of menace. “I said shut the fuck up, brother.”
Edge stared for a beat, then gave a small nod. “Okay.”
I expected another quip. Another jab. But he just walked to the door and paused with his hand on the knob.
“Whatever this is,” he said quietly, “you better get a fucking handle on it. You’re not the only one it’ll take down.”
Then he was gone.
I dropped onto the chair again and scrubbed my hands over my face. My pulse was still hammering, my blood still hot. I could feel the ghost of her mouth on mine like it had been branded there.
This wasn’t just about leverage anymore.
Hadn’t been for a while.