He loved me.
He actually loved me.
He broke the kiss off, grabbed my shirt, and hauled it over my head, then did the same to his. Sliding off the bed, he undid his pants and let them hit the floor, followed by his boxers. His leg still had a bandage over his gunshot wound, but it was clean and dry. I stared at it, swallowing hard, because I’d almost lost him. “Scotty . . .”
“I know.” The second he was naked, he opened the nightstand and tossed a condom on the bed next to me. “I know, sugar.”
When he gripped the top of my pants, I lifted my hips and he tugged my leggings down, tossing them over his shoulder to the floor. I fisted the comforter underneath me, lowering my lashes but not closing my eyes.
Instead, I watched him sit down on the bed and then slide up my leg, one soft kiss at a time. There was something about having him between my legs, staring at me like he couldn’t live without me, that took my breath away. I moaned and shifted toward him, so he lowered his face between my thighs. His tongue flicked over me through my panties before he pushed my underwear to the side and ran a hard finger over me. My legs shook, and I moved against him, seeking more.
He pulled away, then came back with two fingers this time. When he thrust them inside me, I cried out and strained to get even closer to him. “Scotty. More. I need . . . need . . .”
“I know what you need, sugar.”
He buried his face between my thighs, closing his mouth over me while moving his fingers deeper inside me. He quickened the strokes of his tongue, and I closed my eyes, letting pleasure creep over my body, pooling in my stomach and tightening until I came with a soft cry, my fingers buried in his hair, and my legs pressed against either side of his head. He flicked his tongue over me one more time, then crawled up my body, melding his mouth to mine as he reached for the condom.
There was a crinkle of a wrapper, and I felt his arms move as he rolled it on. The second he finished, he broke free of my mouth and kissed my jaw. My throat. The top of my breast.
He left hot, searing marks as he slid down my body. His hands slipped under my back, and he unclasped my bra. He moved the straps down my arms with gentle fingers, dropping it next to us. The second it was gone, his mouth closed over a hard, pink nipple and he sucked it in, his other hand closing over the opposite side. He played with me, squeezing and licking and dragging his teeth until I was once again lost in a haze of mindless lust.
When he finally stopped, he slid his hand between us, urging my panties down my thighs. Apparently, he wasn’t done killing me, because he slipped his hands under my butt, lifted my hips, and blew on my heated flesh. I shivered, moaning. He wasn’t going to . . .
Oh God.
He was.
Again.
He closed his mouth over my already sensitive flesh, dragging his tongue over me slowly, torturously, bringing me to the edge again. It was almost too much, the pleasure he brought out, but it was addicting, and oh-so-delicious, too. I rocked my hips against him wildly, every part of me straining to find that release I knew he could give me. My legs shook and went numb, as if every vein and muscle was focused only on him, and what he was doing to me.
When he thrust his finger again, a sob escaped me.
“Scotty . . . I . . .” I tugged his hair hard, and he dragged his teeth against me, then deepened the strokes of his tongue. “Yes. More . . . more . . . Oh God.”
I came harder than I’d ever come before. It was magical, and mind-blowing, and I couldn’t string a coherent thought together if my life depended on it. He rolled off me, onto his back, and shifted me on top so I straddled him, a leg on either side of his hips. I took a second to adjust to this new position, staring down at him with wide eyes. He gripped my hips, lifted me up in the air, and pressed his erection against me. “Hold on tight, sugar. You’re going for a ride.”
After a nervous glance at his bandaged wound, I rested my hands on his shoulders, right next to his older gunshot wound, and nodded once. “Do it.”
He pulled me onto him with one stroke, burying himself deep inside. I half moaned, half cried out, and dug my nails into his skin as he lifted me and did it again. And again. And again. His hands roamed over my body, never stopping, and the way he touched me was almost . . . reverent.
Like he was memorizing every inch of my body.
Letting my eyes drift closed, I trailed my fingers down his chest, doing the same thing. Learning him, not just by sight, but by touch and smell, too. His hips under my thighs were solid, and muscles of his shoulders felt even harder. I grabbed the sides of his waist, right by that sexy V he had, brushing against my calves, latched securely on either side of him, and sucked in a quickened breath.
He groaned and moved me faster. His exploration of my body ceased, and his fingers buried in my hair. I took over the movements, catching the rhythm he’d established for me easily enough. When he felt me take control, he tugged my head down and fastened his mouth to mine, groaning my name as he pumped his hips up in perfect tandem with me. I cried out, coming again . . .
And this time, he was right there with me.
I arched my back when he thrust into me one more time, sending me over the edge. And I knew he’d be there to catch me.
“Jesus,” he moaned out, long and slow. He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily, and said raspily, “I have to tell you something. And you’re not going to like it.”
He hadn’t even given me a second to come back down from the stars, and he was already ruining the high I’d been enjoying. “What’s wrong?”
“You know what your brother is. What he does.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I’ve known for a long time.”
“So he said.”
“He didn’t want me to know, so I never said anything . . .” I lifted a shoulder. “But it wasn’t all that hard to put the pieces together. Is this about you still being in the Sons? I don’t care.”
“I’m not a Son. Well, I am. Kind of.” He lifted his head and locked eyes with me, still breathing heavily. “Not really. But even if I was a Son, I won’t be one anymore.”
I licked my lips, trying to make sense of his words. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m not a Son.” He took a deep breath. “I’m DEA.”
For a second, I still didn’t understand. But then . . . oh God, then I did. “You’re . . . an agent?”
He nodded once.
“But you’re a Son, too.”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “No.” Pressing his lips together, he shook his head. “I was undercover.”
I slid off him, sitting next to him on the bed, hugging my knees, naked and vulnerable. He was a DEA agent, which meant he was, what, spying on my brother while pretending to be a Son? Which meant . . . the man I loved might very well be the man who could kill my brother. Something told me Tate wouldn’t go down without a fight when backed into a corner.
“You’re undercover,” I said slowly. “It was all fake.”
He nodded once.
It didn’t take long to put two and two together. He’d been running an op all this time, and if Tate found out . . . I didn’t know who to worry about more. My brother or Scotty . . . or myself, because I was inevitably going to be caught in the middle. “He can never know. He’ll kill you.”
“He already knows. He’s known all along.”
I tensed, every muscle in my body aching. “What?”
“He knows.” He sat up, too, then stood. As he worked his way unsteadily toward the trash can, he pressed a hand to his thigh. “In hindsight, it’s probably why he sent me that night. Why he trusted me to watch over you. I should have figured it out then, that he knew.”
I stared straight ahead. My mind was going a million miles a minute. Because he’d mentioned how Tate asked him to watch me, I had another horr
ible thought. “Did your boss at the DEA know we were together? Did I somehow become part of your cover?”
His shoulders bunched as he removed the condom. I knew the answer before he even opened his mouth. He hadn’t been operating under orders from one boss, but two. God. “Sky . . .”
“Wow.” I laughed and stood, wrapping my arms around myself. “Just . . . wow.”
“What I said about you, the way you made me feel even from the beginning, that was real.” When Scotty faced me, I saw it in his eyes. The truth behind his words. “I had two superiors telling me to keep my distance, to watch you but not touch you, but I still fell for you. It was real. It was all real.”
I nodded once, swallowing past my aching throat.
He came a step closer to me. “And when Tate found out, he told me I had to break it off, or he’d hurt Chris.” He hesitated. “And my brother. He threatened him, too.”
“Your brother . . .” I cocked my head. “Your dead brother?”
“Lucas isn’t dead,” he admitted. “I helped him fake his death so he and his girl could get out. Live a normal life. Be happy. They’re in Georgia, and Tate knows. That’s the only reason I said those things in the hospital. To protect them. I love—”
“God.” A small laugh escaped me, and I covered my face. “Was anything you told me real?”
He winced. “Sky—”
“Seriously. How could I believe anything you say now?”
“I love you,” he said softly. “That’s the goddamned truth.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Let’s just recap here. First, you told me you were an intern—a lie. Next, you let me believe you were a former gang member—another lie. Then, you told me you couldn’t stop thinking about me, and needed to be with me—not sure if that’s a lie or not, but you certainly did your best to convince me it wasn’t true. Then you told me you are still a gang member—an almost lie. Then, oh, wait, no, you’re actually a DEA agent—which I assume is the truth, and, again, you were following orders.” I fisted my hands, breathing rapidly. “And now, last but not least, your dead brother is miraculously alive and well, and living in Georgia.”
He took another step. “I know how this sounds—”
“So, please,” I interrupted, “tell me which part of any of those lies were real. I’m dying to know.”
He crossed the room, resting his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t fake the way I feel about you. I knew you’d probably hate me after you found out the truth, so I never should have dragged you into this, but I did it anyway. That doesn’t speak highly of me, but it’s the truth.”
I winced. His touch was softer than silk, but his words ran me through like a sword. I forced my mind to focus on what really mattered . . . Scotty’s safety. “Tate knows about you being in the DEA?”
“Yes.” His hands tightened on my shoulders. “It’s why I told Tate I wanted out of the Sons. That’s what I was doing at his house today.”
I frowned, my heart picking up speed. “But you can’t just leave . . . right? That’s not how it works.”
“I have no choice,” he said slowly, running his thumbs over my skin almost absentmindedly. “He told me I had to go on the take or come clean to the rest of the men, and I can’t be a dirty agent. It’s not me.”
Fear pierced me. “Oh God.”
“It’s done.” He flexed his jaw. “By now, they all know.”
“They’ll kill you,” I said, my voice cracking in tandem with my heart. “It’s a gang, not a democracy.”
“He won’t do that. It’s too risky.” He stepped back, dragging his hands down his face. “They might jump me out, though.”
“How does that work? Who decides? If it’s Tate—”
“There will be a trial, and I’ll be set in front of the lieutenants. Tate will present my case, and I’ll answer any questions they might have. After it’s all over, they vote on what should happen. Since I’m a federal agent, they’ll probably decide to just jump me out, to avoid the attention. And then the DEA will probably relocate me, since my cover will be blown.”
“What’s getting jumped out include?”
He lifted a shoulder, not meeting my eyes. “A few punches here, a kick there. Nothing too bad. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t do this. It’s too risky.”
“It’s too late, sugar.” He gave me a sad smile, and let go. “I already did.”
He was sugarcoating things for me. He kept saying he thought he was going to get out of this alive, but it was a lie. He was going to die, and it was going to be at the hands of my brother.
How had my life come to this?
I grabbed his biceps, shaking him, not letting him back off. “It’s not too late. Leave. Run. Forget all about this place, and the people in it, and go.”
“Sky . . .” He shook his head. “I can’t run.”
“Why not?” I said. “Your brother did, and it worked out great for him. You could just . . . just . . . get reassigned. Go to a different city. Never come back. Tate wouldn’t chase after you if you gave him an out. I’d make sure of it.”
“Yes,” he said gently, cupping my cheek. “He would. He’d have to. It’s a rule for a reason. He can’t have people just leaving like that. Why do you think we faked Lucas’s death in the first place?”
“But Tate didn’t do anything to him!” I laughed in relief, because I’d found Scotty’s way out—and he was going to take it, whether he liked it or not. “He’ll let you go, too. Like you said, killing a federal agent will bring down a whole lot of unwanted attention on his head. So go. Run. Leave. Skip the whole jumping-out part. You’re still recovering from surgery.”
“Lucas and Heidi ‘dying’ gave Tate the pretext he needed to let Lucas go. It would be too coincidental if I also ‘die’ under suspicious circumstances.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I’d be endangering Lucas, since the gang might start looking closely at his ‘death,’ too, and Tate would be forced to reveal that he just ‘discovered’ Lucas was alive. For abandoning the gang like that, for plunging us into a war over a woman . . . Sky, they’d kill him.”
I didn’t say anything. Was my brother, the man who had thrown me a sweet sixteen birthday party, the man who sacrificed his future so I could thrive, really so ruthless? So cold? “Surely, if I asked, he’d let you go. He knows how I feel about you. Go, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t come after you or your brother. I swear it.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You’ll leave me if you’re dead,” I snapped.
“I’d rather be dead than live the rest of my life without you,” he said tenderly. “I’m not running away. I’m yours, and you’re mine, and if there’s even the slightest chance we can be together, I need to take it. I need to stay here, and fight for us.”
“So fight by running.” My heart twisted. “Take me with you.”
He smiled sadly. “I’d never make you choose between me and your brother, Sky. You’d hate me for it. Maybe not right away. Maybe not until we were old and wrinkly. But at some point, it would happen. And I can’t live with you hating me any more than I could live without you. I love you too damn much.”
Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks, because I knew I was getting nowhere with him. He’d made his mind up, and nothing would change it. “But you might die. I can’t live with that.”
“They won’t kill me,” he said again, pressing his mouth to my temple. “After they jump me out, I’ll be by your side when this is all over, and I’ll get to continue doing my part to clean up the city. I can’t run from that chance.”
I swiped my hands across my cheeks, scanning the room for my phone. “Then I’ll call Tate. I’ll tell him if he touches one hair on your head, I’ll never forgive him.”
He caught my wrist, shaking his
head. “First of all, it’s not just him deciding, remember? And second of all, you can’t interfere in this. You have to promise me you’ll stay as far away from this mess as possible, for me. I made my decisions, and now I have to face the consequences. That’s on me. Not you. Not Tate. Me.”
A tear rolled down my cheek, and over my lip. “But if he hurts you—”
“Sh.” He kissed the tear off my lips gently, his hands cradling my face, and I saw the truth of what might happen in the shadows of his eyes. The shadows he was trying his best to hide from me. “I love you, Sky. But you have to know that whatever happens to me, if I get hurt, that doesn’t change the fact that Tate loves you. He’s your brother.”
I shook my head, straining against him. He kept telling me that Tate wouldn’t kill him, but the thing was . . . I wasn’t sure I believed him. And if he killed Scotty, there was no way I’d ever forgive him. “But I love you. I . . . I . . .”
“I know, sugar.” He swept me in his arms. “I love you, too.”
After lowering me to the bed, he rested his body on mine, sliding between my thighs easily. He ran his thumb over my wet cheek and kissed me gently, his mouth tenderly seducing me.
All the secrets were out in the open, and there was nothing left for us to hide behind.
I’d written the ending of our story a million times in my head, and it ended the same way every time. But now he was here, telling me he loved me, and that he might be hurt by my brother, and I wasn’t ready to accept that.
He ran his hand down my thigh, lifting it up and sliding inside me easily. “I swear to you, Sky, if you let me, I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll never lie to you. Never pretend to be anything other than me. I’ll love you forever, and I’ll try my hardest to make you happy, if you’ll let me.”
I nodded, pulling him back down for another kiss. As he moved inside me, sending pleasure rolling through my veins, I didn’t let go. Because I knew once I did, no matter what he said about Tate not hurting him, once he left for this “trial” of his . . .
He might never come back.
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