Chapter 10
KANE
I planned on waiting longer to let Savannah have a little freedom.
To keep her isolated—pressed between four walls during the day and the heat of my body at night—until she or her brother cracked.
But she’d looked so restless, so fucking tightly wound from pacing and sitting and thinking too much that I caved yesterday.
Let her into the common room for a few hours, thinking I’d be in control.
I was wrong.
So far, my new tactic for gaining information had backfired. It was supposed to earn me goodwill so she’d talk. Instead, it was testing my patience to the fucking limit.
Now, she was sitting at the long, dark granite island in the clubhouse kitchen, legs swinging under the stool like she didn’t have a care in the damn world.
She wore one of her own shirts this time—a pale blue thing that hugged her curves and made her eyes look even bluer.
But she was still barefoot, hair slightly mussed from sleep, lips a little swollen from the way I’d kissed her last night and then left before I did something we couldn’t come back from.
She shouldn’t have been smiling. Not when I was barely keeping it together.
I turned the burner down, flipping the eggs in the cast iron skillet as though it hadn’t become a morning routine I secretly looked forward to.
She’d commented on missing real breakfast last week, so now I cooked for her when I could.
Not that I explained. I just dropped plates in front of her like it didn’t mean anything.
It seemed she knew better now, though. I could see it in the way her lips curved when I wasn’t looking directly at her. My malfunctioning brain hadn’t connected that by making her breakfast this morning, with both of us in the kitchen, she’d realize that I’d been doing this for her all along.
Fuck . I was so far past the ledge, I didn’t even recognize it anymore.
The screen door groaned open behind me, and heavy boots crossed the tile floor. I glanced up to see Drift wander in.
“Smells like someone’s gettin’ spoiled,” he drawled, grinning as he came into view and tipped his chin at Savannah. “Mornin’, sunshine.”
She arched a brow, lifting her fork and letting her tone drip with mock sarcasm. “That’s suspiciously friendly for the guy who threatened me the first day I stepped foot in town.”
Drift barked out a laugh and dropped onto the chair across from her like they were old friends instead of hostage and enforcer. “Fair. I was bein’ a dick. Club orders were to warn off anyone sniffin’ too close. Didn’t know you were gonna be shacked up in the Prez’s fuckin’ quarters.”
I dropped another plate on the counter a little harder than necessary.
Savannah’s grin sharpened as she took another bite of eggs. After swallowing, she said, “So, what you’re saying is you were rude to a stranger, got proven wrong, and now you’re pretending you have manners.”
He let out a low whistle, shaking his head like he was impressed. “She’s spicy. I get the appeal.”
“Don’t,” I warned, my voice low and flat.
Drift just chuckled and leaned back in his chair, boots crossed at the ankle like he had no plans of leaving.
“Relax, Prez. Just talkin’. Though if you’re still comin’ up empty on intel, maybe you should let me take a swing.
Get her loosened up. Maybe she’ll talk to someone who doesn’t look like he chews nails. ”
Savannah tilted her head, eyes dancing. “You could try. But you wouldn’t be successful.”
Her tone was playful, not flirty. But it didn’t matter.
The second Drift grinned at her like they were co-conspirators, I saw red.
I rounded the island, caught her arm gently but firmly, and hauled her from the stool before she knew what was happening. “We’re done here.”
She blinked, surprised, but didn’t resist. “You know, for someone who claims I’m not a prisoner, you sure manhandle me like one.”
“I warned you what would happen if you kept testing me, sugar,” I growled, voice low in her ear.
She didn’t fight me, but her steps weren’t exactly cooperative either. Every stomp of her bare feet was another jab at my temper. By the time we reached the door to my quarters, I had to count to ten to keep from ripping it off the fucking hinges.
I shoved the door open, pulled her inside, and closed it behind us.
“You done?” I asked, voice rough with everything I couldn’t say.
She spun on me, arms crossed under her breasts. “With breakfast? Apparently.”
I stalked toward her, blood burning under my skin. “You think this is funny?”
“I think it’s ridiculous.” Her chin tilted defiantly. “You brought me downstairs. You fed me. Then got pissed because I had a conversation with someone who doesn’t treat me like a live grenade.”
“I treat you like something dangerous because you are.”
She snickered with narrowed eyes. “To you? Or your carefully laid plans?”
“Both,” I growled, stepping in close and letting my shadow fall over hers. “You’ve been here for nine days, and every damn day you look at me like you want something. But you don’t fucking ask for what we both know you want.”
Her eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a second. “If you don’t want me looking at you like that, maybe you should stop kissing me.”
“I never said I wanted you to stop.”
She blinked, then swallowed hard.
The air went tight between us. Charged, like lightning coiled in the sky, waiting to strike.
Her lips parted slightly, and her breath caught.
Fuck. I was so damn fucked.
I stepped in the rest of the way, one hand sliding around her waist, the other bracing beside her head against the door. “I warned you, Savannah.”
Her lashes fluttered, but she held her ground. “Warned me about what?”
My hand fisted the front of her shirt, dragging her against me. “That if you kept testing me, I’d stop giving a fuck about restraint.”
Then I kissed her.
She didn’t even finish inhaling before I had her back against the door, mouth crushed beneath mine, hands grabbing her hips like I could mold her to my fucking body and erase the past half hour from existence.
Her breath hitched in surprise, but the second I bit her bottom lip and sucked it between my teeth, she moaned.
Loud and needy, like she’d been waiting for this.
Hell, maybe she had.
Her fingers curled in the front of my cut, yanking me even closer, and I lost whatever thin thread of restraint I had left.
I lifted her straight off the floor, and her legs wrapped around my waist, her body arching into mine, soft curves against the hard planes of my chest. My back hit the door, the old wood shuddering as I slammed her against me, letting her feel the full extent of how hard she’d made me.
“You think this is a game, sugar?” I growled against her mouth, my voice frayed. “Think you can smile at my brothers and test how far I’ll go before I snap?”
She gasped when I ground my cock into her core. “Kane…”
“Yeah, baby,” I bit out, nipping at her jaw and tasting the salt of her skin. “Say my fucking name.”
Her fingers threaded in my hair as I kissed down her neck, open-mouthed and punishing, marking her like I had every right to. Because I fucking did. She was mine.
Mine.
I walked her to the bed like that, bodies locked together, her breath coming in ragged little pants against my throat. When I dropped her on the mattress, she bounced once, her blond hair spilling wild around her shoulders, blue eyes dazed and dark with want.
I peeled off my cut, then my shirt, tossing them aside without looking away from Savannah. Her gaze tracked every inch of me, and when her teeth sank into that plush lower lip, I almost came in my jeans like a damn teenager.
“Take off your clothes,” I rasped.
She hesitated, flushed and breathing shakily.
“Now, Savannah.” It was an order this time. One I expected to be obeyed.
She sat up slowly, tugging her shirt over her head and dropping it to the floor.
Fucking hell . No bra. Just smooth, bare skin and perfect fucking tits.
“You walked downstairs like this?” I snarled.
She froze, eyes wide, her fingers no longer fumbling at the waistband of her shorts.
My voice turned to gravel. “You do not ever walk out of this room without a bra unless you know for sure that it’s just you and me.”
“Um…”
I leaned over her, bracing my hands on either side of her hip. “No one. No one sees what’s for my eyes only. I don’t fucking share, Savannah.”
Stepping forward, I dropped to my knees in front of her and slid her shorts down her legs, dragging my fingers over every inch of newly bared skin.
She trembled when I looked up at her from between her thighs.
The scent of her arousal hit me like a punch to the gut as my fingers slipped through her slick folds.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” I growled.
She whimpered when I teased her clit, biting her lip as her back arched again.
I slid one finger inside her, and she cried out—more in surprise than pain—and I stilled, watching her.
I dragged my knuckles along her inner thigh, then paused, registering the tension in her muscles. The hesitation in her breathing.
“Tell me,” I said, voice low and dark. “You ever done this before?”
She gulped, then shook her head. “No.”
I sat back on my heels and stared up at her, blood roaring in my ears.
“You’re a fucking virgin?” The words came out hoarser than I intended. There was reverence in them. Hunger. And something darker. More primal.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even need to. I saw the truth in the way she froze, in the sudden tension in her thighs.
“Fuck,” I breathed, reverence and possession twisting inside me. “No one’s touched you?”
She shook her head. Silent. Breathing hard. Pink spread across her cheeks and chest, but her eyes stayed locked on mine.
“Say it,” I demanded.
“No one’s touched me,” she whispered.
Possessiveness gripped me like a chain, dark and twisted, and I reveled in the feeling.
I let out a harsh breath. “Fucking hell. You’re gonna be the death of me.”