by LC Lehesaho
Tiger doesn't waste time. It takes less than ten seconds from the bedroom door slamming shut behind us, to him dropping me on the bed, caging me with his big body.
My senses are in overdrive, and I don't know how to feel, the emotions all jumbling together; relief, the joy, and the dazing feel of fulfillment speed in my veins like a drug making me high.
"Damn, baby, you got me off guard. We're gonna get fucking married," Tiger murmurs, lips almost brushing mine, while tugging my sports bra up and off me. My hands are doing the same to his shirt, and I want to rip it in half to get it off faster, but I don't have to because he jerks it off with one swift move.
My mind won't let me say anything because all I can think of is getting him out of those fucking sweats, so I end up just humming and bouncing my head in agreement. The throbbing in my core is killing me, screaming for him to ease the ache. As if knowing how badly I need him, Tiger pulls my pants off, diving two fingers inside me, and rolls his thumb on my clit while kissing me with such intensity it leaves me breathless. I moan and whine against his lips from the sensation, feeling how fucking soaked I am for him.
Always for him.
For my fiancé.
I know this is fast. Some people would say that we're jumping on the gun here, rushing into things. But those people haven't spent ten hours a day tied to a wall to be tortured, fourteen days in a row. So, fuck that. I've hesitated and ended up denying the love of my life for years and no more.
No. More.
It's my fucking life, and I'm living it to the fullest. I don't want to waste even a second anymore, so I'm taking what's mine.
And giving Tiger what's his.
The euphoria takes over my body, raising a purr from my throat and making me sway against his hand. I reach to his sweats, tugging them down enough to release his entire length, and once he is free, his fingers get replaced.
"You fit me so well, baby girl," Tiger growls against my lips as he thrusts all the way in, making my walls clench around him from the phenomenal pleasure. "I fucking love the way you feel around me."
I agree. We fit perfectly together in every way.
Digging my nails to his back, I wrap my legs around him and pant from the lack of air. His hand is not even on my throat, his elbows rest on each side of my head, but he just feels so damn good inside me that it takes my breath away.
The bed creeks against the floor as he grinds into me, over and over again, hard and deep. My muscles tighten and go numb with every thrust, his mouth never leaving mine. We share the air we breathe. We share everything. Tiger is in my body, in my heart, in my soul, and my brain. Exactly where he was always meant to be.
We are where we were always meant to be—together.
He grabs hold of my other leg, peeling it off from him, and bends my knee, pressing it against his side. The move stretches me in the most wicked ways, letting him hit even deeper, and colorful dots start to flash in my eyes as my climax starts to catch up with me. My body trembles against his, my core convulses as I come fast and hard, moaning his name and praise words in the same breath. The ecstasy shudders through me, leaving me panting and muscles shivering. It rocks his boat, and my eyes roll back all over again when I feel his dick pulsing its release inside me because it feels so. Fucking. Amazing.
His hard, sweaty body rests against me, pinning me to the mattress. Tiger sweeps his lips over mine once more, whispering how much he loves me, before resting his forehead to his arm beside my head. I feel sated. Whole. And so goddamn happy I could die.
~
"Did you know, in the books, most of the guys want to wash their girl's hair?" I say to Tiger as we stand under the shower, and I rub the shampoo into my hair.
The wicked smirk deepens on his handsome face as he watches me, roaming his eyes over my naked body. "I've washed your hair many times, and I'll do it if you want me to. But right now, when you are perfectly capable of doing it yourself, I’d rather watch you."
He lifts his hand, trailing one finger from my neck to my breasts, circling the curves of them with a hypnotized gaze. The touch lingers lower, starting to brush over the letters carved on my stomach. A cold rock emerges from the bottom of my abdomen, spreading the chills to my skin on a hot shower.
I hate those fucking scars. I hate that they'll always be there—Daddy's little angel.
Tiger's dark eyes rise to meet mine, and there is nothing but admiration in them. "Call me a creep, but I could watch you endlessly. It's so goddamn soothing."
The warmth of his words overcomes the chillness in my veins because I know he doesn't say it just for the sake of it. The truth can be read from his face. I drop my head back, keeping my eyes on him as I rinse the shampoo off, his fingers still caressing my belly.
"I thought that I could get a tattoo over those," I reveal, encouraged by his words. Tiger's eyes drop back to observe them, and he tilts his head to the side with a pondering expression.
"Don't," he finally says, splaying his fingers over them. "You were stronger than them. They couldn't break you, and you should never forget it. Every time you see these," he looks at me, those kissable lips curving up into a smile, "it should remind you that you can survive anything. There is no such thing as a beast without scars, you know that. Right, baby girl?"
I know.
I survived from it, just like Tiger survived from the horrors of his past. We all have our scars, some of us have them on sight and others have them carved into their souls.
Tasting his words, I gather my hair together and pull them to my front, sleeking them while watching his tattooed and scarred skin. Those light marks are like a spiderweb over the hills and valleys of his muscles. Black ink covers part of them, but Tiger didn't get his tattoos to hide his scars.
He loves art; which is why he has so much of it on his skin. Each of those is his own design, just like the ink on my skin—the cobra on my side, the skull on my thigh, and the phrase on my neck.
We've always done everything together, pushed each other further, challenging one another to reach our fullest potential. During these years, as best friends, we shared everything. His strength is mine, and my compassion is his. Whenever I needed to be strong, I thought about Tiger. And I know he has sympathy only for the people close to him, so Tiger relies on me when he needs to give it to a stranger or the people he doesn't like. When he told me about the boy who read poems at the club and what he said to him, his effort melted me, and I fell in love with him even more.
But that's how we survive—we rely on each other.
No matter where we are, how lost we are in the world or inside our own heads, we always have one another.
"You're kinda right," I tell him, reaching my hand up to his neck, caressing the text on it with my thumb. "But there is a little mistake."
Tiger cocks an eyebrow, questioning me.
"You said they couldn't break me, but I wasn't the only one on the line, right?" I lift my other hand to wipe the wet hair from his temple, continuing. "They couldn't break us. We'll always burn brighter than the fire around us."
"That's right, wifey," he says with a beaming smirk, grabbing my waist and pulling me against him. "I'd rather burn the entire world down than let anyone take you away from me." He leans down, pressing our brows together. "And did I mention I'm fucking stoked to marry you?"
My heart flutters, and butterflies make an entrance to my stomach, and I can't help but laugh at his cuteness.
"Yes, like a million times already."
~
Balancing on the edge of consciousness and falling asleep is a real struggle. The movie, which I have no clue what's happening in or even what genre it is, keeps rolling on the big flat-screen TV on the wall, and I snuggle myself tighter against Tiger's side on the soft couch. My head rests on his pec, my hands folded against my chest, and one leg is over his waist—perfect position to sleep. He has kept asking me from time to time to see if I am awake, and then I snap my eyes open and lie through my teeth.
But for once, Tiger doesn't make me pay for lying to him. Yes, it's only a meaningless white lie, but knowing his zero tolerance for my bullshit, he could take a catch from those. I'm glad he doesn't.
I'm so damn tired.
We went canoeing on the lake at the back of the cabin, and it was so hilarious I got stomach cramps from laughing so hard. I never knew we could suck at something that massively, but we did. It was god's miracle we didn't fucking drown.
First, it took us almost twenty minutes to get into the canoe. Tiger went first while I held it still. That part was a success. But then the problems started.
When I was stepping into my spot, he accidentally knocked me with the oar, and I went full starfish mode, landing face-first in the water. Obviously, I tried to grab hold of something for my dear life but only ended up turning the canoe upside down—with Tiger in it.
I hope to every god ever worshipped there won't be surveillance cameras pointed down to the lake, or we'll be the joke of the year in the family.
Overcoming the challenging start, we finally managed to get ourselves into that damned thing and roamed around the lake for hours. Nearly got lost until we found the recognizable cliff. Otherwise, we'd probably still be out there and gone all Robinson Crusoe by now.
So, after eating a fantastic Italian meal—which we made together—Tiger insisted on watching a movie. It led me here, cuddling on the verge of sleep, and actual sleeping, and yet again, lying that latter didn't happen.
"If you didn't sleep... Tell me, wifey." Tiger massages my scalp, hand resting partly on my back. "Who killed who?"
Oh shit.
My last memory of the movie is a woman picking her daughter up from kindergarten, nothing about anyone killing someone. A yawn tears my jaw while I try to think further, and it makes Tiger burst out a laugh, rumbling and low.
"You're a pretty little liar, aren't you, baby girl?" His fingers fist into my hair, pulling my head back, and he looks down at me with a wicked smirk.
Another yawn escapes from me, and I cover my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking the sleep off my eyes. "Yeah, I think I am," I admit, submitting to play his game.
Even when I'm bat shit tired, my stomach flutters with a fresh excitement from looking at his handsome features and the sin in his dark eyes. The dominating nature he holds is the hottest thing I know, and I love it—though usually, I like to make him work for my submission.
Now I'm just too tired to play hard to get.
Tiger's other hand comes to my face, wiping the strand of hair to the back of my ear. The gentle touch catches my breath, and I swallow, moisturizing my lips.
"Luckily for you, I'm gonna make you use your only get out of jail card," he whispers, the grin melting into a warm smile. My brow arches for his comment, and Tiger pokes my nose with his index finger. "Let's get you to bed, sleepyhead." He hauls me to his lap and gets up from the couch, keeping me in a bridal carry. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I nuzzle the soft skin just above the collar of his t-shirt.
"Damn, you smell so good I could eat you," I mumble, breathing in the deep and dark scent of his. It's like a promise of a good time—if you like it rough.
Tiger's laugh reverberates through his chest to me, making my abdomen tickle. It's irresistible.
"Maybe we push the sleeping further, and you can do just that, okay, baby?"
The phone in his back pocket starts to ring when I'm opening my mouth to tell I agree.
He sighs, dropping his head back. "Pick it up, please?"
Easier said than done, but after fishing it for a while, I manage to get it out and check the caller. "Oh, hell. Why are they harassing us tonight?" I huff, frustrated, but answer it anyway and press on the speaker. "Didn't I tell you guys I don't want to hear from you this week?"
"Yes. That's why I called Tiger, and not you," Wolf's steady voice fills the room. Without giving me time to grunt back anything, he continues. "You two need to come home. The cabin's security cameras have been hacked. Somebody is watching you."
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
I don't want to be an asshole and say I told you so to Cobra.
Instead of getting her mad at me for opening my mouth and letting it out, I keep it shut while driving us back to the mansion. She's tensed to the edge of snapping, so I know it's not the time to poke her.
Somebody has been watching us.
Silas is certainly behind every fucking step we take.
Sure, nothing happened—no one attacked us while we packed our bags and drove out of the cabin. Pietro and Martin were like bloodhounds before we left, turning every stone in the area so no one could jump up and shoot us in the head.
The Jeep's high-beams light up the long driveway to the Hayes mansion, and after an hour of silence, Cobra opens her mouth.
"I can't fucking believe this."
"What do you mean? That someone hacked the system?"
She scrubs her both hands over her face, growling under her breath. "All I wanted was one week without any of this bullshit, just you and me. One. Fucking. Week."
The weight of her distress is like a truck parked on my chest, and I want nothing more than to tell her everything is gonna be okay. But when have I ever been a fucking liar? I can't promise her that.
Taking her hand in mine over the console, I take a deep breath through my nose, filling my lungs to the fullest. After blowing it out slowly with my reborn anxiety, I turn to look at her.
"Cobra." Calling her brings those big hazel eyes to mine, and it fucking guts me to see all that joy she had only a few hours ago vanished like it never even existed. "I don't need a cabin or anything else unique to enjoy being with you. If you want a week or a year without anyone else, just you and me, I'll make it happen. We can self-isolate ourselves to my, or your, loft and order in. But what I need is for you to be safe, okay, baby girl? That's all I want."
"You'd spend a year in my loft with me without stepping out?" She cocks an eyebrow, one corner of her pretty mouth curving up.
"Hell, yes. I'd be happy to spend the rest of my life there with you," I convince her, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb. "When Puma comes to the balcony, pleading us to let him in, I'd just draw the curtains down. You and me, wifey."
Cobra snorts out a laugh, making a ridiculous neighing sound to the end. Cute as fuck, and I feel like breathing is not a damn burden anymore.
"Sounds fantastic, but I don't think that's necessary. I didn't mean to be a nagging bitch, side-stepping my responsibilities." She squeezes my hand, a beautiful smile decorating her whole face. "I had planned us all kinds of activities, and it all drained down the toilet, but that's life. You're absolutely right; we don't need fancy shit. It's enough we'll go to bed together and wake up the same way, side by side."
"Besides, you have a wedding to plan. It's not like you have time to roam around the forest and shit." A smug smirk spreads to my face, and I'm not even ashamed to be so damn excited about it.
"True. We probably have to have our nuptials in our basement for safety precautions, but still, it's gonna be great," Cobra says while I park her Jeep into our underground garage next to Bear's demonic Challenger.
"It's gonna be epic, baby."
~
Leo sure knows good whiskey.
Gulping the smoky liquid down my throat, leaning my ass to the cart with the booze collection, I watch the family lounging in his office, seemingly calm, but the little tapping of fingers and feet reveal their true emotions.
Even Leo is fiddling with his wooden bracelet.
"I couldn't track down the hacker," Falcon sighs, shrugging. "No clue who it was or even where it was done."
"One of Romero's men found a driver who's been taking Crusador's wife to yoga, and he told us that Silas flew out of the States the day Cobra escaped," Wolf informs, placing his hands to the backrest of the armchair Bear is sitting on
, and leans to it. His usual demeanor, the cool as cucumber attitude, is cracking. "Of course, he didn't know where."
How I'm not even slightly surprised that the piece of shit fled?
What a fucking pussy.
"And the wife?" Bear tilts his head to the side, looking up to his brother.
"She's still here, probably somewhere in Preston."
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I throw at Bear, a grin creeping to my face, and he answers with one just as sinister.
"I told you, bro. You and I," he motions a hand between us, nodding slowly, and winks at me, "Same."
Cobra's eyes ping-pongs from Bear to me and back while she sits beside Puma on the couch. "Do I even wanna know what that's all about?"
Leo lifts his palm, stopping us all. "I don't know, neither do I care, but you boys will not kidnap his wife."
Only by closing my eyes, I stop myself from rolling them. Crusador fucked us first. It's not time to act gentlemanly here.
Bear, on the other hand, won't keep his opinion from coming out. "You can't be serious? The bitch is in this as much as her cock sucking husband, so yes, Dad. We are gonna pick up the old cunt and show her a good time."
Puma mumbles under his breath something about a sick fuck and other lovely things like that, but everyone else falls silent, eyes on Leo. He glances at the ceiling, like searching for patience from higher powers, before turning to his rebellious son. Who I support one hundred percent in this, even to my own surprise.
"If we find her and decide to pick her up, you certainly won't be on board. Wolf." He lifts his eyes higher, looking at the much more balanced individual. "You can track her, and if you do find her, inform me. Only me."
Wolf dips his chin as an answer, and Bear growls before taking a swig of the black liquid in his glass. I can settle for this arrangement because the most important thing is that we make progress.
I want them all dead, like probably everyone else in this room does, and I'm willing to do everything it takes to make it happen.