Chloe
Two Months Later
A motorcycle engine rumbled somewhere behind the cabin, and she smiled before she even turned around.
She knew that it was Vengeance. He'd spent the last two months healing. At first, simply walking across the cabin had exhausted him. Now he was rebuilding an old Harley that Savage had hidden beneath a tarp in the detached shed. He was determined to have a reliable motorcycle if the time came when they’d need to leave.
He still moved carefully, and she noticed when the stitches pulled. He always insisted he was fine, but she'd long since stopped believing him. "You're supposed to be resting," she called.
He rounded the corner carrying a toolbox. "I rested yesterday."
"You said that yesterday,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes at him.
"I was probably lying,” he admitted.
She laughed. "You definitely were." It still surprised her how easily laughter came now.
Not because life had become easy—it was far from it.
Dante was still out there, and they lived with the threat of him finding them every day.
But Bowie checked in through coded messages that arrived every couple of weeks through an old handheld radio she had found.
His messages were always brief—asking if they were safe, and warning them not to come home yet.
Those messages had become their lifeline.
Vengeance set the toolbox down and leaned against the porch railing beside her.
She couldn’t help but look his body over.
They slept in the same bed every night, but she was worried that touching him might reopen his wound or cause him pain.
So, she kept her hands to herself and felt as though she was holding her breath all night long until morning came again.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked. She had a pretty good idea that telling Vengeance that she was thinking about all the dirty things she wanted him to do to her was a bad idea.
"My family,” she said, giving him a partial truth.
He nodded. "They're okay."
"I know." She looked out over the trees. "I just hate not being there."
"I know,” he said.
She smiled faintly. "You say that a lot."
"Because I do." The comfortable silence returned.
It amazed her how much had changed. Two months ago she'd barely trusted him enough to ride on the back of his motorcycle, but now, she knew exactly how he took his coffee—strong, no sugar.
She knew he whistled quietly whenever he worked with his hands, and that he always woke up before sunrise.
She knew that nightmares still found him at least twice a week, but she never asked about them anymore.
Instead, whenever she heard him pacing outside in the darkness, she'd quietly make two mugs of coffee.
Eventually he'd wander back inside, and they’d sit together.
Sometimes they'd talk, and sometimes they wouldn't, but neither seemed to mind.
"You've been staring at me,” he said.
She blinked up at him. "I have not."
"You have,” he said.
"I was thinking,” she covered.
"About me."
She rolled her eyes. "Your ego is enormous."
"So that's a yes." She nudged him gently with her shoulder, and he pretended to stumble dramatically. "My bullet wound!" he teased, grabbing his side.
"Oh, stop,” she said.
"You've assaulted an injured man."
"You deserved it,” she teased.
His grin widened. “Does that mean that you’ll finally stop treating me like I might bite.
" Flashes of him biting her naked body crossed her mind, and she knew that she was blushing. She looked at him. She knew that his scar was healing and that his bruises were gone, but she still worried about him. The hard lines around his eyes had softened, and he smiled more now. It wasn’t often, but it was enough that she'd started looking forward to it.
"I was wrong about you." The words came quietly.
His smile faded. "I know."
"No." She shook her head. "I don't think you do.
" He waited her out. "I believed that Dante created another version of himself.
" She reached out without thinking and brushed a loose strand of dark hair away from his forehead.
"But he didn't." His breath caught. "He created someone who chose to become everything he wasn't."
Emotion flickered across his face. "You really believe that?"
"I do,” she whispered.
He looked away. "I don't deserve that."
"Maybe not." She smiled. "But Savage believed it, too."
He laughed softly. "You really know how to win an argument."
"I learned from Bowie,” she said.
"I noticed." They both laughed, and the sound echoed across the clearing before fading into the trees. When the laughter disappeared, neither of them moved. Her hand was still resting lightly against his cheek, and his eyes searched hers. Slowly, carefully, like he was giving her every opportunity to step away, he leaned into her. She didn’t take a step back.
Instead, she took one small step closer.
"I've been thinking about something,” she whispered.
He swallowed. "That’s dangerous."
"It usually is."
"What have you been thinking about?” he asked,
"The first day we met—” She smiled. "I hated you."
"I remember."
She shook her head. “That’s the thing. I don't remember that anymore."
His heartbeat seemed loud enough for her to hear. "You should remember that, Chloe.”
"I know, but I don't." She rose onto her toes and kissed him. It was tentative and gentle—nothing like the desperate kisses she'd imagined in romance novels. This one felt safe.
When she pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that."
She smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."
"I also spent two months convincing myself it was a terrible idea,” he said.
"Probably is,” she said.
"You deserve better than a man with my last name,” he insisted.
She cupped his face in both hands. "I deserve a man who chooses me."
His eyes closed. "I do choose you, Chloe.”
"I know that you’d stand between me and the devil himself, Vengeance,” she breathed.
"I would."
"I know." The certainty in her own voice surprised her. She trusted him completely now, not because he'd asked her to, but because he'd earned it.
He pulled her in and gently kissed her lips. “I’ve wanted you since the day we met, honey,” he admitted.
“You have?” she asked.
“Yeah, but then, I went and got myself shot, and well, you know the rest,” he said.
“I’ve wanted you since we got here, but I’ve been too afraid of hurting you. Are you sure that you’re up for this?” she asked.
He looked down at his bulging erection and back at her. “I think that if I were any more up for this, you might be in trouble.” She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I think that I can handle a little bit of trouble, Vengeance,” she said.
“I think that you can handle a lot more than I give you credit for, honey,” he said. He tugged her T-shirt over her head and hissed out his breath. “Shit,” he breathed. “No bra.”
“Yeah, well, living life on the run doesn’t give me some of the luxuries that I had gotten used to,” she said. He looked her over, and she wanted to cover herself with her hands. “Spoiler alert—I’m not wearing underwear either.”
He grabbed her hands and pulled them down to her sides. “Let me look at you, honey,” he ordered.
“I’m not used to having anyone look at me this way,” she whispered.
“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it, Chloe,” he breathed. “I need to touch you. Are you good with that?” he asked.
She shyly nodded, “Okay.” He pulled her into his body and kissed her. She knew that he was trying to get her out of her own head, and damn if it wasn’t working.
He stuck his tongue against her lips, and she moaned. “Open for me, honey,” he ordered. She did as he asked, and it was his turn to moan now. The sound nearly undid her restraint.
“You taste so fucking good, baby,” she said, running her hands through his hair.
“I like it when you call me baby,” he said.
Vengeance dipped his head and kissed his way down her neck to her exposed breasts.
He sucked one of her nipples into his warm breath, and she couldn’t help but cry out.
“Baby,” she shouted. He chuckled and worked his way over to the other nipple, giving it the same attention.
“You’re still wearing too many clothes,” he said, taking her into the cabin.
He backed her to the sofa, and she toppled back onto the cushions.
He knelt between her legs and unzipped her jeans, working them down her body, inch by inch.
She felt as though she was holding her breath, waiting for what he was going to do next.
“I’m going to taste you, honey,” he said. “Are you good with that?”
She nodded, and he spread her legs, giving him an up-close look at her girl parts. Once again, she wanted to hide—to cover herself or run to the next room, but Vengeance wouldn’t allow her to do that.
He licked his way through her wet folds, and she moaned out his name. Chloe couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made her feel the way that Vengeance did. Hell, she had never been in love with anyone besides him, so the answer was probably never.
He ate her pussy like a starving man, and when she practically wrapped her thighs around his face, riding his mouth, he seemed to lose complete control. He let her ride out her orgasm, and when she finished, he quickly shed his clothes and pulled her up from the sofa.
Vengeance sealed his mouth over hers, and she could taste her release on his lips. Just thinking about what he had done to her turned her inside out with need. She needed more—she needed all of him.
He seemed to be able to read her mind as he tugged her up his body.
“Wrap your legs around me, honey,” he ordered.
She did as he asked, and he backed her to a wall, using it to wedge her between it and him.
This time, he didn’t ask her if she was good with what he was about to do to her.
He knew that she was just from the way that she writhed against him.
He slid into her body with just one thrust, and she cried out his name.
“Baby,” she breathed, running her hands over his chest. He pumped in and out of her body, pressing her against the wall with each thrust, and she was sure that she’d wear his handprints on her hips once they were finished.
God, he was setting a punishing pace, and she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to last if he kept it up.
“I need you with me, honey,” he growled. “Can you touch yourself?” he asked. She had never been shy about sex, and taking what she needed from her partner, but touching herself in front of him wasn’t something she thought she could do.
“I—I don’t know if I can do that,” she whispered. “I’ve never done that in front of anyone before.”
“Shit,” he growled. “That’s so hot. I’m going to be the first man to watch you touch yourself. I need you to do it now, honey. Please,” he begged. Chloe hated that he was begging her for what he needed. She wanted to give him everything, and if he wanted her to touch herself, she’d do it—for him.
Chloe snaked her arm between their bodies and rubbed her thumb over her clit.
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he whispered.
It felt so good; she couldn’t help the breathy little moans that escaped her lips.
She rode his cock, strumming her clit, and when she shouted out his name, he continued to pump into her body.
He didn’t let up or give her a chance to catch her breath.
Instead, he pumped harder into her pussy, and when he came, he shouted out her name.
“That was perfect,” he breathed. She nodded, and he let her slide down her body until her feet hit the floor. Her legs felt a little wobbly, and he seemed to notice, catching her in his arms before she went down.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, just a little unsure on my feet,” she admitted.
He lifted her into his arms and walked with her over to the sofa, grabbing a blanket off the back of it to cover them both up.
She was completely wrapped up in his warm body and his scent, and there wasn’t anywhere else she wanted to be.
So many things ran through her mind—things that she wanted to say to him, but they could wait.
Telling Vengeance that she was in love with him wasn’t something that she wanted to rush into, but she did love him, and sooner or later, she’d have to come clean with him.
But for now, just being with him was enough for her.
That evening, after dinner and hours spent talking beside the fire, they finally stopped pretending the growing feelings between them weren't real.
They held each other close, sharing tender kisses and quiet promises, and the distance they'd both tried so hard to maintain disappeared.
The night became the beginning of their relationship—not because of passion alone, but because they had chosen each other despite everything that stood against them.
Chloe lay with her head resting against Vengeance's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I've got bad timing," he murmured.
She smiled sleepily. "You certainly do."
"I had to go and fall in love with you while my father's trying to kill us,” he teased.
She tilted her head to look at him. "You love me?"
His expression turned serious. "I think I've loved you since Huntsville."
She smiled. "It just took me a little longer, but I love you too, Vengeance.
" He kissed the top of her head, and she snuggled into his side.
Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, but inside the cabin, for the first time in months, they allowed themselves to believe that maybe—just maybe—they had found something worth fighting for.