Chapter 25
RAZOR
How long do you give someone space, especially when they are every thought in your head from the moment you wake and throughout the night in your dreams? It’s an impossible ask, and yet I must honor Sunday’s wishes.
The fact I can’t give her what she deserves is tearing me up inside. She wants me to commit. Doesn’t she realize I’ve already done that? This is my form of commitment and is the best on offer.
I don’t want anyone else. I only want her, and she is definitely no whore.
I give her two days.
It’s all I can physically cope with, and fate has a little hand in determining the timeline when I catch up with her walking to the cafeteria one morning.
We turn the corner at the same time, and her eyes widen and she blushes adorably when we almost collide. I reach out and steady her, and I swear it’s as if I came home.
“Razor.”
The way she says my name hits me hard in the heart, and I nod, my gaze intense, the blood heating my desire.
“Hey, darlin’, you’re looking good.”
“Same.”
Her sweet smile is a familiar delight, and I can’t drop my hands that reach out to steady her. It’s physically impossible.
“I miss you.”
The yearning in her eyes matches mine, and I dip my head to her ear, and my tone is low and husky as I whisper, “I’m glad to hear that.”
Her gaze lowers and I wish I had it in me to give her the reassurance she seeks. Instead, I pull her closer and say huskily, “Please tell me you’re done with space.”
She steps a little closer, and my breath hitches as she wraps her arms around me and clings on as if she is falling.
My face nuzzles the top of her head, the scent of fresh lavender hitting me with familiarity, and my hold tightens, my heart racing as she says softly, “I missed you, honey. And I hate how weak I am where it concerns you.”
“You make me stronger, Sunday.”
My lips brush her cheek and my pulse races because the past couple of days have been interminable without Sunday in my arms.
“What happens now?”
She pulls back and stares up at me, her anxious expression twisting the knife that lives inside my heart twenty-four seven.
“What do you want to happen?”
I lay it out there, and for a moment she appears uncertain, and I can’t breathe.
Then she shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I raise my eyes, my heart too delicate right now to speak, and she smiles. “Let’s just carry on with us. I don’t need a label, or any declaration of intent. We’ll see where this road takes us and enjoy every second of the ride.”
I can’t help myself and crush my lips to hers, the relief overwhelming as I connect with my woman. I have missed her so hard it shocked me, and as she kisses me back, I fist her hair and hold her steady because there are a lot of hours when I haven’t been kissing her to make up for.
“I see you two made up then.”
A dry voice interrupts the moment, and as we pull apart, Carla stands there, tossing her eyes, her amusement evident.
Sunday smiles. “Is it obvious?”
Her sweet giggle draws a smile from inside me, and Carla sighs. “So much for playing it cool. I have a lot to teach you. Mind you–” she drops me a wink. “I’ve got to give you credit for lasting two days.”
She points toward the cafeteria. “If I can give you some advice, though. You should probably eat first. Just saying, you may require your strength—both of you.”
I grip Sunday’s hand in mine, loving how right it is, and as we follow Carla down the path, she sighs.
“You know, Razor, you should sort your shit out where it concerns Sunday. In your absence, she has been hit on more times than target practice, and she hasn’t reacted to one of them.
Treat her right, or one day she may not pass on another offer. Just saying.”
Before I can react to that, she calls out, “Britney. Wait up.”
She tears off down the path, leaving me silently fuming at the idea of my brothers hitting on my girl, and Sunday whispers, “She’s messing with you, honey. The guys were respectful; she’s merely making a point.”
“It’s a good point.”
I tighten my hold because keeping away from the bar was torture when I imagined that same scenario playing on repeat in my mind.
Imagining Sunday in another Reaper’s bed as she sent me a message to prove she has other choices.
I ran with it all, tormenting myself on repeat, not seeing the movies I attempted to divert any thoughts of her away.
She leans against me.
“I missed you so much.”
I guess this is my time to declare what’s in my heart, but I physically can’t and sound like an asshole as I growl, “Same.”
Why am I an emotionless jerk? There is so much I want to say to Sunday, but I will never voice it out loud. I physically can’t and hide behind my beard and my surly personality rather than laying my heart on the line to get trampled over.
We reach the cafeteria, and Lou rolls her eyes when we head inside, causing Sunday to laugh softly. She turns to me and whispers, “You find a table; I’ll wait on you this time.”
She walks away and I hate how I check out her ass that sways in her tight jeans, jerking on the invisible line she has attached to my cock.
A low chuckle behind me causes me to turn, and I notice Creed watching with amusement as he sits with Annabelle, who is equally amused.
“You got it bad, man.”
His gentle teasing merely tells me what I already know, and I shrug. “Can you blame me?”
Annabelle smiles. “Sunday is a lovely girl, Razor. She’s been miserable these last two days. You should really attempt to place that cute smile of hers back where it belongs, and I’m not just talking about painting it on with your dick.”
Creed laughs out loud, and even I spill a grin, and Annabelle chuckles.
“You’re all the same. You’re hot and you know it, and we don’t stand a chance.
Just take pity on the girl, for her sake if nothing else.
She likes you and has been miserable since you gave her the space she asked for, but really meant she wanted you to try harder. ”
Creed shakes his head in confusion. “How the fuck are we supposed to read these signals, baby? Why ask for something you mean the opposite of and then be miserable when you get it? I’ll never understand women.”
Annabelle reaches out and pats him on the shoulder, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t hurt your pretty little head, honey. It’s not your problem to deal with.”
I chuckle as I move away, loving the banter that always entertains me in the compound.
The whores are sassy and not afraid of speaking their mind.
I suppose that comes with not giving a fuck.
Annabelle obviously spent the night with Creed, but it was merely for company and sex, of course.
She leaves tomorrow to head to Chicago, where she is returning home.
Apparently, her problem has been sorted and there is no threat there anymore.
She never formed one attachment and merely coasted along with whoever took her fancy.
I can relate. I’ve done the same until Sunday smiled at me from across the bar, and now I can’t bear the thought of being with anyone else.
That spells trouble for me because one day—soon even—Sunday may follow Annabel and walk away from me forever.