Page 67 of Chase
“Yeah, but I’m fit and able right now,” his brother responds. “I’ll get to try out its effectiveness first.” Raven looks from me to both men and back to me, her lips quip into a small smile. Her eyes dance with amusement, and unable to stop herself, she grins.
“If I’m reading the room correctly,” she says. “You, girl, have won the lottery. Fucking enjoy it.”
After Violet’s artwork is completed, Raven covers the design with the pad and Harrison helps his wife from the bed. She takes hold of his hand, and he leads her from the room. Connor steps toward Raven, who is sliding the latex gloves from her fingers. He holds out a hand in her direction.
“Thank you for taking care of my sister and her friend,” he says as they shake. “Have you been paid for your services?”
“Not yet,” Raven tells him, and he pulls a wad of cash from his back pocket. “It’s seven hundred pounds.” Without counting he hands her a bundle of notes.
“That should cover it,” he says before moving to my side and sliding an arm around my waist. “Let’s go.” He leads me from the tattoo shop and out onto the street. Harrison is sitting in the driver’s seat of Connor’s jeep with Violet in the passenger side. Connor opens the rear door, then takes my hand to help me step into the vehicle. He climbs in behind me.
A few minutes later, Russell climbs in the opposite side and lays his crutches on the floor. Both men take a hand each, interlocking their fingers with mine. I sit in the back of my boyfriend’s car, holding the hands of two men I am completely devoted to.
Chapter twenty-seven
Russell’s Penthouse, The Level
Samantha
“Connor was really pissed at you earlier,” Russell says as we sit on his sofa watching nothing in particular. When we arrived back at The Level at seven in the morning, everyone was too wired to sleep. Connor has an early case today, so he went back to his apartment to freshen up and head into the office early. He’s due in court in a matter of hours.
Russell and I came up here to relax. It’s been blissful wrapped around him, chatting about nothing important. We’ve covered everything from our latest favorite television series to the type of music we like.
“Why?” I ask him, surprised that it was Connor who was annoyed. “You’re the psycho control freak. I would have expected it to be you losing your cool.”
He chuckles, then places warm lips on my forehead. “I have no concerns regarding your ability to keep yourself alive. I would even go as far as to say I trust you to keep my sister on this earth, too. Though she can be a bit ditsy.” His grip tightens on my shoulders. “Not many women would be able to knee a mafia boss in the nuts and live to tell the tale.”
“You know about that?” I stammer, warmth coating my cheeks. No doubt they’ll have turned tomato-red. That early morning altercation has run through my mind more times than I care to admit, the feeling of being both proud of standing up for myself but also idiotic for taking such a risk with a man like Hunter. He could end my life in a heartbeat if he wanted to.
“Hell yes,” he replies, his face beaming. “I wish I’d been there to see it. Hunter Devane being brought to his knees in the middle of a parking garage by a nurse.”
“It was epic,” I agree. “But perhaps not my best moment.”
“You impressed Damon and Greyson. They couldn’t believe he let you walk away.” He takes a breath, his chest rising and falling before he speaks. “However, I must admit that you impress me every time I see you. You really are remarkable, Trouble.” His lips drop to mine, and he kisses me gently. The gesture is slow and intimate; it’s everything a kiss between two people who care about each other should be. I turn toward him, then wince with the pain from my new piercing. “Are you sore?” he asks softly.
“A little.” His hand comes to my cheek, and we kiss again, this time deeper, our tongues dancing together as we enjoy the connection. “You be careful with her,” he whispers. “I want my pussy in perfect condition when I get this damn thing off this leg.” The word “my” causes every ounce of independence to evaporate from my body. These men wanting me, loving me even, feels so fucking good.
“We can do other things before then,” I tell him. Partly for him but mostly for me. Not being able to investigate the sexual part of our relationship is beyond frustrating. My need for him to touch me is growing by the minute. “You having a cast doesn’t need to stop us having sex.”
“No, Trouble, I’ve thought about this. When I get to take you for the first time, I want to be in full working order. No restrictions. It’s a matter of weeks. I’ve been patient and won’t allow my enthusiasm to ruin what we’ve been waiting for.”
“I’m not sure I can wait.” My words are needy leaving my mouth. I twist a little more up onto my knees to face him. His strong fingers move to my hair, wrapping around the strands and pulling my lips to his once more. “We’ve been wanting this since…” I don’t complete the sentence, unsure when our relationship morphed from a distant yearning to the all-consuming need we have now.
“Since that night I picked you up from work and didn’t bring you straight home. Also the night you told me to stop contacting you.” My gaze moves over his shoulder. I focus on a painting on the far wall of the room. It’s an image, almost erotic, of two people in a passionate embrace. Painted in muted tones, it’s hard to decide whether they’re clothed or not. “It’s okay,” he consoles. “I know why you did.”
“I was trying to do the right thing. I never wanted to hurt Connor.”
“Neither did I, but sometimes two people can’t be kept apart. And I think you agree with me that this feels so damn right for us.” He tugs at the strand of hair that hangs loosely by my cheek and twists it around his finger. His thumb strokes the soft surface, pulling gently then releasing the curl. “Do you agree, Trouble? This feels right.”
“Yes,” I admit. “Yes, it does, but…” I stop speaking again, uncertain whether to tell him what I want to. The truth that could be the end of my time with both brothers.
“But what?” he prompts. His eyes are soft, softer than I’ve ever seen them. The edges of the lips that have kissed me gently and whispered encouragingly tonight turn up once more.
“When I’m with Connor,” I say, before taking a steadying breath. “It feels right too.”
“I would hope so,” he replies, surprising me with his lack of jealousy. He chuckles before explaining. “You’re not a woman to waste people’s time, Trouble. You’re direct, honest, and independent. I don’t see you keeping one of us around to massage your ego.”
“I would never do that!”