This Savage Love: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set

by Kathryn Thomas

  He tried to close his eyes and enjoy it, but he couldn’t resist watching her. Ali’s creamy ass was thrust high in the air and her hair spilled around her as she grasped him and lapped at the pre-come oozing from the sensitive tip of his cock. He gathered her hair in his fist and held it so he could see her mouth as she worked him in and out. She took him deep, swallowing him down and then working the head with her tongue, alternating corkscrew strokes and dainty flicks of her tongue until his balls tightened and he gripped her hair.

  “Ali, wait,” he urged, but she merely looked up at him, her eyes dancing, and increased her movements and suction. Finally he stopped resisting and pumped his hips at her, clutching the sheets with his free hand and groaning a string of barely coherent curses. He hissed as he emptied into her. In a million years he would never forget the look of satisfaction on Ali’s face as she swallowed him down. Afterward she lovingly cleaned him with her tongue until the sensitivity was too much to bear.

  Alejandro tugged at her until she lay cradled against his chest. He kissed her hair, her eyelids, and finally, her mouth. “I’ve dreamed of this, Ali,” he said. “I know it shouldn’t happen. I know our worlds are too different. But you were always the one.”

  She tipped her face up to his. “Then why did you push me away?”

  “Because, Ali. Some things just can’t be. You’re meant for a different life than the one I can give you.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Ali sat up in bed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sick and tired of everyone deciding what’s best for Ali. Bobby. My mother. Cecile fucking Dawson. How about I be the judge of what I need for once in my life?”

  “You don’t need my life. I’m telling you. This isn’t about what dress to wear to dinner, Ali. This is life or death shit.”

  “Did you say the other guys have wives and girlfriends?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Am I so fucking precious that I can’t handle what they can handle?”

  “Maybe you are!” he thundered, sitting up beside her and cupping the back of her head with his broad palm. “Maybe you’re better than this life, mi angél.”

  “I’m not an angel, Alejandro. Not a saint. Not a damn princess either. I’m just Ali. I love you and I want to be with you. Can we just see what we can give each other without you trying to protect me?” She traced his bottom lip with her elegant fingers and he kissed the tips. “Let me love you,” she pleaded. “Please, for me, let me try.”

  His breathing grew shallow at what her eyes promised, but still he tried to discourage her. “You don’t know what you’re asking, mija.”

  “I know exactly what I’m asking,” Ali whispered, slipping her fingers into his close-cropped beard and scooting closer. “I’m yours,” she breathed against his mouth.

  He had her pinned to the bed by both wrists in an instant. Her eyes said she wanted it that way and she nipped at him as he nudged her thighs apart with his knee. “Mine,” he growled before claiming her mouth with his own, his lips rough on her soft ones. But Ali gave as good as she got. She bucked against him to make her intent perfectly clear, transmitting the depth of her need directly on his hardness.

  He strained through clenched teeth. “I’m not some pretty boy who’s gonna check his hair in the mirror between strokes, Ali. I’m gonna fuck you till you beg me to stop. I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget who made you come harder than you ever have in your life.”

  “Then do it.” Her eyes glistened and her chest heaved. She licked her lips hungrily. “I’m yours. Make me come for you. Make me scream your name. Take me, use me, fuck me till I cry. I don’t care. But don't you fucking dare make me a promise and break it again.”

  When he reached between her thighs she was dripping. Ah, she likes a bit of dirty talk, he thought. My beautiful, dirty angel. That was new, as was the way she wrapped her thighs around him as he lowered himself inside her. Her knees clutched his sides like she was riding her horse and she clawed his shoulders, his back, and his ass as he thrust inside her.

  She was exquisite. Burying himself inside her was as amazing as it had been when he’d done it years ago. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breath quickened with pleasure. Before long she was gasping, quivering, clenching her teeth as he plundered her. He threaded his fingers through hers and pinned her hands to the bed and she gave herself over to him completely, writhing and whimpering until he pounded into her with furious strokes and she broke. It went on and on; he could feel her spasm around his cock and she just kept coming, her orgasm drawn out by his continued thrusting. Her face was flushed and her mouth hung open in her climax, but he didn’t stop pumping until he felt his own orgasm building from the base of his spine. It ripped free and thundered out of him and he collapsed in her arms, burrowing his face into her neck.

  “That’s just the beginning,” he mumbled against her skin a few moments later.

  She laughed at his muffled voice. “I can take whatever you’ve got, big boy,” she teased, stroking his damp back and kissing his hair.

  ***

  They spent the morning in bed, promising each other nothing more than the few days they might have together. Ali was insatiable, drawing him back to her again and again. It was as if she’d never been with another man, like no one but Alejandro could fulfill the ache inside her. When he passed out from sheer exhaustion, she watched him sleeping, traced her fingers across every inch of his skin.

  Another dead-end, she warned herself. You’re right back where you were ten years ago. You can’t live his life any more than you can live Bobby’s. Don’t be stupid.

  But somehow Alejandro’s life seemed the better of the two options. It was dangerous and illegal, but he had what she’d never experienced: sweet, glorious freedom.

  He wasn’t asking, but if he did, she didn’t know how she’d refuse him.

  She didn’t think she could let him walk away again, not after so many false stops and starts.

  She couldn’t give up the sweet ecstasy of his lips on hers, his body coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from her, his hands stoking the rising fire in her veins.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Two days later, Ali was in the barn feeding Tip when she heard Alejandro’s voice behind her.

  “I was wrong,” he said. “I thought I was taking you away from your society friends, the lifestyle of privilege, but what I’d really be taking you away from is this.”

  The lump in her throat burned. She tried and failed to swallow it down.

  “And that’s where Bobby fucked up, isn’t it? He didn’t see how much this place is in your bones.” It was as if he was thinking aloud.

  Ali didn’t reply. She didn’t know if she could even speak.

  “I can’t ask you to give this up. And I can’t put you in harm’s way. So where do we go from here, Ali?” His dark eyes bored into her. “I’m not losing you again. I won’t push you away and I sure as hell won’t let you push me away, not now.”

  She set the bucket down carefully and wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “It’s impossible, mi corazón.”

  “I don’t think it’s impossible,” she said quietly.

  “No?” He cocked his head and walked toward her. “How so?”

  “San Antonio isn’t so far away.” She licked her lips. “Close enough when we need each other. At least for now, while it’s still new.”

  “And then?”

  “And then…” She slid her arms around his neck and murmured against his mouth, “We re-evaluate.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “Almost,” she whispered, nuzzling his neck. “I still don’t know how I can live without this every day.” Her hand trailed down the front of his shirt, feeling the crinkle of the dark hairs underneath. Her fingers edged along the front of his jeans, which were already tented by his arousal, and cupped the bulge they found there.

  “I’ll make it up to you every time I come back,” he vowed, covering
her hand and pressing it with his own. His mouth found hers again and he kissed her, long and slow and deep. That kiss was a pact made by two people with their own rules. It was a promise of possession and freedom, of love and passion. It both sealed their past and anointed their future. Ali took Alejandro’s hand and led him back into the house.

  ***

  Bobby slowed the Escalade and crept past the old industrial park. There had been movement all week—trucks in and out, bikes in and out, even a brief visit from Sheriff Hennessy. Once again the gates were closed, but there was activity behind the chain link fence that surrounded the complex. He focused until his eyes landed on the tall man with the dark beard. He watched him move about, giving orders, disappearing and reappearing again. Always that swagger like he owned the world. Like he was a king instead of a punk from the wrong side of town who’d seen easy money in a life of crime.

  Why, Ali? Bobby couldn’t keep his eyes from Alejandro Rojas, couldn’t stop imagining those criminal hands all over her. Like the devil and an angel—black leather and dark looks soiling her wings and staining her purity.

  She’d lied and Bobby knew it was a lie when the words fell so easily from her tongue. Yet he hoped—dared to hope—that Alejandro Rojas was just a knee-jerk reaction to stress, a passing fling. Instead, the bastard became a permanent fixture. Discreet as Ali might have been, Alejandro's bike was parked at her house several nights a week. The thought of Alejandro in the same bed Bobby had so often slept in with Ali turned his stomach. It made him crazy.

  Once Bobby even parked at the end of her driveway. He walked halfway up and stood watching the lights flicker as they moved about within the house. Then the lights winked out, one by one save for the lone dim flicker in her bedroom. Bobby stood motionless on the gravel that night, staring at the darkened windows until he swore he could hear Ali’s cries of passion. Then he drove out to the new house, half-finished and hulking in the moonlight, and drank until the satisfied sighs died in his ears and things made sense again.

  A life of politics hadn’t been his plan, either. He cared about the issues they crafted the basis of his campaign around, but he didn’t care about the public eye half as much as his father. He felt as trapped as she had by the whole thing, but they could have made it work, or at least tried. Damn it, Ali. Why couldn’t you just wait? Why couldn't you just hang on? Something twisted deep in his chest as he pictured her face, her beautiful smile and laughing gray eyes. He closed his eyes and they were on the beach in St. Maarten again, Ali in that white bikini coming out of the water like a goddess. The twisting turned to a sharp pain and he welcomed how alive it made him feel.

  You belong with me, Ali. You’ll be my wife, the mother of my beautiful children, the First Lady of Texas. You’ll be adored by the public and every door will open to you. To us.

  He can’t give you any of that. He’s a thug, a lowlife, a worthless piece of shit not fit to breathe the same air as you. The only thing he can offer you is danger. The only thing he can promise you is pain.

  Come back to me, Sugar and I'll show you how good it can be again. I'll take care of you. I'll love you until you forget his face, his name, and everything he ever told you.

  I'll erase Alejandro Rojas from your memory once and for all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  I will never forget this day. I’ll never forget how it feels to hold her and press all of her skin next to mine. To finally touch her everywhere, to taste her, to hear the sounds of pleasure she makes. She pulls at me with an invisible thread, and I fall into her again, my face in her hair, my hands on every inch of her soft skin. When her fingernails scratch my back the sharpness spurs me on. There is nothing but this feeling of possessing her and being claimed by her in return, of giving her everything willingly and knowing it is already hers. She is every fantasy I’ve ever had, and I understand now why men kill for this, wage wars and die for this. Ali, Ali, Ali… I whisper her name like a prayer as I let go inside of her.

  She said I didn’t hurt her the first time, but I know she lied to make me feel better. The second time we did it, though, she cried out my name over and over and I felt like a king. Now I understand why the poets called it “the little death.” It feels like leaving your body and going to heaven. The other girls I was with before her were nothing like this. We’ve been in my room all day, and it’s like we can’t stop. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve buried myself in her. It’s a hunger I can never satisfy.

  We knew when we got together that it was just for the summer. She’s going away to College Station and I’m going on the road with my cousin. Maybe we should’ve stopped with that kiss on graduation night, but we’d both wanted it for so long. It was always going to happen, but it was never going to last. She’s meant for a life I’ll never be a part of, and I knew that even when I took her hand and pulled her toward me.

  Right now I don’t want to think about Ali’s future, the football games and parties she’ll be going to without me, the people she’ll meet that I won’t even know. There’s a guy out there for Ali who will give her everything she deserves, and the thought makes me want to smash the entire world because I can’t be him. I can’t try to hold her back, because if I do she will lose everything. She would give it all up for me, too, and that scares me more than thinking about her with someone else.

  In this moment, we belong to each other completely. Tomorrow she’s going, and the next time we talk it will all be different. I promised I would call her, wherever I am, in one month. The thought of spending a single day without hearing her voice is torture, but I know that soon enough I’ll face something even worse than missing her. I will lose her, and that leaves a foul taste in my mouth like dirty pennies.

  I don’t want to think about the first time I call her and she doesn’t sound excited to hear from me. I don’t want to consider how quickly she’ll get over me, or how soon it will be before she stops saying my name like a promise. I can’t stop making love to her right now, not just because I’ve wanted to for years but because it’s the only way to keep me from doing what I can never do.

  I want to beg like a child for her to come with me. I want to tell her to hop on my bike and disappear with me, but I can’t be that selfish. So I swallow the words I can’t ever say to her: Ali, te quiero. Ali, te amare por siempre. The words beat and whisper in my heart instead. I feel them as the sweat of my body mixes with the sweat on hers and our lips claim each other.

  Ali, I love you. Ali, I will always love you.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Ali Owens sighed as her phone chirped again. Without even looking at it, she knew it was another text from Bobby. That's what I get for not calling him back the first time he texted, she thought, glancing down at the screen. Her ex was well-known for his persistence.

  Call me.

  Their last dinner together a few weeks ago had been a disaster. She'd managed to avoid spending any time with him since his unforgivable behavior at Bistro Mia, but it hadn't stopped him from texting like clockwork every day. Call me. I miss you. Come back to me. The florist's delivery driver had practically worn a path to her back door. I'm sorry, said every card. Please forgive me.

  She knew he meant it, that was the thing. He was sorry. He did love her. He would do anything to win her back.

  She just wasn't sure she wanted to be won.

  It wasn't just about Alejandro. At least, she didn't want it to be just about Alejandro. Her first love, the first man she'd ever given herself to, had re-appeared after ten years and plucked her heart from her chest as easily as a child plucking a dandelion. She hadn't stood a chance when she bumped into him looking gorgeous and dangerous and hungry for her. When he said the words she'd waited ten years to hear, she knew she'd never stopped loving him.

  There were damned good reasons to end things with Bobby, anyway. He hated her job. She hated his mother. He wanted her on his arm for his political campaign. She wanted a quiet life with privacy. Marrying Bobby meant selling the
ranch she'd inherited from her grandmother, the place where she'd practically grown up. Bobby's life of politics meant galas and campaign events and nights away from home. She didn't want their children raised by someone else. Her grandmother had essentially raised her, though her parents would never admit to that, and Bobby and his brother had a nanny growing up. Ali vowed that her kids would have something different. Something much, much better.

  But if she was very honest with herself, she didn't think Alejandro could provide that, either.

  Alejandro Rojas was the VP of the Padre Knights, an outlaw MC. He'd come back to Arroyo Flats with his club brothers for a brief assignment. Ali wasn't clear on all the details, but she knew it had something to do with smuggling illegals from around the world across the Mexican border to the US. If Bobby was to be believed, the Padre Knights MC was also involved in drug smuggling and selling stolen weapons.